Crystals
by OkamiShadou98
Summary: After seeing Lucifer's scars, Chloe searches for the truth about her partner and his shadowed past. In doing so, she comes face to face with the psychological demons he shields himself from. Recovery is a long, twisted road for the Devil and his Detective. Eventual Deckerstar.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N - Here we go with another Lucifer fic. This one takes place in early season one, right after Chloe shot Lucifer. It's AU so no Palmetto or Malcolm, though Dan and Chloe are separated. The story title comes from the song Crystals by Of Monsters and Men which was the song that sort of inspired this story. Every chapter name is usually the song I listened to on repeat while writing. I might make a playlist if any of you are interested in that kind of thing._

_This chapter is short because it's a sort of intro but the rest will be much longer._

_I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!_

**Chapter One - I Of The Storm**

The highway was miraculously free of traffic, a rare sight in Los Angeles. It was as if someone had simply plucked every other vehicle off the road. Chloe Decker, however, did not notice this small miracle. Her attention was focused on the man sitting beside her in the car. The man she had _shot _not an hour ago.

Not that you would know it by looking at him. Lucifer Morningstar was lounging impressively in the passenger seat, though the confined space made his pose a tad underwhelming. He was leaning back against the headrest, eyes half opened though Chloe knew he was alert. His left foot was tapping along to the song playing softly from the radio, body incapable of being completely still for any length of time.

Her gaze slid to his right thigh, where his hand was resting protectively over the bullet graze, thumb tracing the area lightly. Though she knew it must hurt, he had not stopped touching the injury since it had been bandaged. It must be shock or something, why else would he be so obsessed? Then again, he had reacted similarly once he had noticed he was bleeding. The look he had worn could only be described as marveling, as if bleeding were a pleasant surprise.

"Detective, far be it for me to tell you how to drive but if you keep taking your eyes off the road, I fear we'll crash." Lucifer said mildly, bright eyes flickering to meet her own.

Chloe felt heat flower across her cheeks at being caught staring. Returning her focus to the road, she caught Lucifer's smirk in her peripherals.

"We're not going to crash." she said to alleviate her own embarrassment. "Give me some credit."

One of Lucifer's brows rose in an elegant arch. "This coming from the woman who just shot me."

She was just able to hold back the flinch. That moment in the warehouse still felt so surreal. She could still feel the weight of the gun in her hand, feel the recoil...

"Lucifer, I am so, _so _sorry I shot you. I don't know what came over me." she said, frowning as she chanced another glance at him.

"It's not your fault Detective. I did ask for it after all." he chuckled to himself. "Though I must say, I'm a little surprised it took so little convincing."

"It doesn't matter whether or not you asked for it." she argued.

Lucifer merely shrugged, clearly not agreeing with her. His attitude about the incident was worryingly casual, like he was indifferent. She was not even sure what that meant but it certainly scared her. What in the world had made him so flippant about his own life? Didn't he know he could have died? She could have shot him in the chest. Or one of the siblings who had staged the kidnapping could have attacked him from behind.

"Do you think it'll scar?" he asked suddenly, prodding the small, round hole in his pants curiously.

Chloe did not answer immediately, more concerned with switching lanes as their exit was coming up soon.

"What did you say?" she asked.

"Do bullet wounds scar?" he repeated. "Your's did if I'm not mistaken. But I'm not human so maybe not. I wasn't supposed to bleed either though…"

Chloe could feel the beginnings of a headache. A threatening pressure was forming just behind her eye, as it often did when Lucifer went off on one of his delusional tangents. His talk of scars, however, also reminded her of the scene she had walked in on earlier in the evening.

She had firmly blocked out the naked Lucifer part because… well first of all it was completely inappropriate and second she was still married. Those scars on his back though… she had never seen anything like that before.

They had been massive, at least a foot long and five inches at their widest point. The skin was rough and knotted, raised lines spreading across the area like corded tree branches. She could not imagine what could have caused such a thing but she knew it must have been a traumatic experience. That level of damage was not something someone could just shrug off.

And it must have affected Lucifer deeply, judging from his reaction when she had tried to touch them. In the two months they had worked together, that was the only time she had seen him display anything even resembling vulnerability. It had been a deeply emotional moment, something she should not have been privy to. They were not close enough for that, hardly more than strangers. Yet he had felt comfortable enough to show her them… and everything else.

"Lucifer, what happened to your back?" she asked carefully.

He looked at her oddly, brow furrowing. "Detective, I already answered that question. I told you, Maze cut off my wings."

She wanted to cry in that moment, seeing him so completely caught up in his own delusion. The earnest look he wore proved he believed wholehearted what he was saying. It was horrifically cruel.

"People don't have wings." she said softly, trying to remember her psychology classes from back in school.

She had always been warned about threatening a person's delusion, some could become dangerous or violent.

"Yes I know. But I'm not human. Honestly, it's like you don't listen to a word I say."

Chloe did not trust herself to answer, her lip was wobbling dangerously. Were the scars on his back what had caused him to believe he was really the Devil? And if that was the case, what had happened to him?

She tried to picture Lucifer as a child and found she could not. Something about the image was off, like he had never been young, which was ridiculous.

"Detective, have I upset you?" he asked, subdued.

His smirk was gone now, replaced with a worried frown. He was leaning towards her, trying to get a better look at her face.

"It's not you." she said, not liking how concerned he now was.

He seemed to hardly care that he had been shot but now that she was upset, he was acting like that was the most important thing in the world to him.

"But you're…" he trailed off, eyes screwed up, puzzled.

How did she ever get into this mess?

"How often do you see Dr. Martin?" The words were hardly across her lips before she covered her mouth. "Oh God, I'm sorry. That's personal."

Lucifer was still watching her, searching for something. His fingers still danced lightly over the bloodstain on his pants.

"I see the good doctor once a week usually."

Well, that was something at least. He seriously needed help, though she doubted one therapist would be enough for the man. His Devil shtick ran far deeper than she had initially thought, so much so he literally thought himself impervious to bullets...or he had at least. After tonight, she could safely say he was _not_.

"And does it… help?" Chloe was walking a fine line, she knew.

Lux was near now, the top of the building slowly becoming more and more pronounced.

Lucifer sighed. "Sometimes."

And then there was silence.

Her partner turned his head away and stared out the window. His shoulders slumped beneath the leather jacket he wore for the sting. Chloe preferred him in his suits. The leather just did not look quite right on him, too underwhelming and plain for his boisterous personality. In fact, quiet did not suit him either.

It was only now, faced with an unnaturally contemplative Lucifer, that she found she absolutely loathed it.

He had a wonderful smile. Some people's eyes were always cold but his smile lit up his entire face, crow's feet crinkling. The world delighted him in a childlike way, every discovery amazing him.

"Detective, you've passed Lux."

Chloe sucked in a breath, daydream spinning away. Sure enough, she had plowed right on by the night club, and considering the exterior of the place was lit up light a Christmas tree, that was no small feat.

"Shit." she swore, executing a 'completely legal' u-turn.

She pulled into the narrow space between the club and building next store, stopping just short of the parking garage. The moment she put the car in park, Lucifer was fumbling with the seat-belt she had demanded he wear. The device gave way with a click and he opened the door, swinging his injured leg out carefully before climbing to his feet.

"Thank you for the ride Detective." he leaned down to address her, one hand resting against the top of the car. "I'll be late tomorrow."

"You don't have to come in." she said hurriedly, shooting another look at his leg.

"Of course I do! We're partners remember?" Besides," he paused long enough to look over his shoulder before dropping his voice, "Maze is a terrible nurse."

"If we're really partners, then you would help me with the paperwork." Chloe teased, trying to ease the tension from before.

She was relieved when Lucifer smiled crookedly at her comment. She did not want to leave him feeling badly, especially because it was her prodding that had diminished his good mood.

"Good night Detective." he said, closing the car door.

She watched for a minute as he limped towards the main entrance and engaged the bouncer at the door in a brief conversation. Even with the limp, he was the picture of grace. Most of the people lined up were watching him hungrily and he prowled down the line, greeting his guests.

He was giving off a completely different vibe from a moment ago. It was beginning to dawn on Chloe that Lucifer was a fantastic actor. If she had not witnessed it herself, she never would have believed he was that good at pretending.

The weight of worry melted off his shoulders, his towering form demanding the attention of everyone in his vicinity. The smirk was back in place, though far more predatory this time.

_He was playing a part,_ she realized.

The only question was, which parts of him were just acts?

That was the question that dogged her the entire way to her mother's home. The dashboard clock said it was nearly eleven and she hoped the sitter had been able to put Trixie down. Her daughter always had a hard time falling asleep on these late nights.

She pulled into the driveway and entered the borrowed home, sending the sitter home with a promise to pay her the next time she babysat.

The house was pretty clean, only a few Barbie dolls left out for unsuspecting adult feet to step on. Gathering the toys up, she made her way to Trixie's room. At first, she thought her daughter was sleeping but when she set the dolls on the dresser, Trixie sat up.

"Mommy?" she said, rubbing at her eyes.

"Hey Monkey." she sat on the bed and opened her arms for a hug.

Trixie crawled into her grasp easily, small body fitting perfectly on her lap. She was going to miss these sorts of moments when her daughter became older and no longer wanted cuddles.

"Why are you home so late?"

"Mommy was arresting someone." she said, running her hand through that wild dark hair.

Trixie frowned, pulling her head away so she could look her in the eye. "Was it dangerous?" she asked.

This was one of the worst parts about being a detective. Trixie was growing up and becoming more informed about what it meant to be an officer of the law.

"Sort of." she said, not wanting to lie but also refusing to scare her. "Lucifer got hurt."

Trixie's eyes widened in alarm and she grasped Chloe's face with her hands. "Is he okay?" she said in that stage whisper children use.

Chloe gathered her hands gently and held them, the soft warm skin a contrast to her own calloused fingers. "He's okay. It was just a graze."

Trixie broke into a smile, missing front teeth leaving a large gap which Chloe found absolutely adorable.

"Good." she said.

Chloe once again wondered about the one way connection her daughter had formed with the club owner. Trixie adored him, always asking if he was ever going to come over for a play date. The fact he was an adult did not seem to register with her daughter, who treated him as she would any of her school friends.

She wondered if there was something to that, if Lucifer gave off some signal that drew Trixie to him. He certainly was childish enough to be seven.

"Who's taking care of Lucifer if he's hurt? His mommy?" Trixie had climbed out of her lap and was now sat beside her, feet swinging lightly against the mattress.

The question surprised Chloe. "Monkey, Lucifer is an adult. He doesn't need anyone to take care of him."

"But when you get hurt at work Grandma takes care of you and you're an adult." Trixie noted.

And Chloe could not argue with that because it was one hundred percent true. Every time she was injured on the job or got sick, she would usually call her mother. That was the relationship between parents and children. Lucifer, however, had never spoken about his mother. He complained about his father, and to a lesser extent, his siblings, but never once had he brought up the woman who had birthed him.

A picture of her partner was starting to form and she did not like it at all.

It involved Lucifer as a younger man - she still could not picture him as a child - estranged from his family and left behind with massive scars. His brown eyes were uncertain, mouth partially opened as he searched fruitlessly for someone. Anyone.

It was the same look she saw every time a traumatized kid was brought into the station, haunted eyes unable to cry even as their lips quivered under the weight of the cruelty they had been unfairly wrought. It was the look of teens in foster care who pretended to be indifferent to the world that had let them down one time too many.

It was the look of people who had been abandoned.

Robotically, she said good night to Trixie and tucked her in. Her daughter was asleep within seconds, content with the knowledge that her mother was safe.

She moved into the dining room and opened up her work laptop. The Los Angeles Police Department crest was the background, official and foreboding. She opened up the police database, entering her password and badge number to gain access. Once in, a search page was displayed.

Not sure how else to start, she simply typed 'Lucifer Morningstar' into the name bar and clicked enter.

The police database only held certain information. Criminal records, vehicle registration, property ownership. Things that would be important for investigations.

The first thing to come up is information about a parking ticket from five years ago. A parking meter had run out and Lucifer's convertible had been ticketed for illegal parking. Otherwise, the section was empty.

Vehicle registration proved to be equally unenlightening. According to their records, he had only ever owned one car, the black 1962 Corvette Convertible. He had bought it five years ago from a private seller.

There was nothing under property ownership as he rented Lux and did no technically own it but there was a note about the business saying it had opened five years ago - the exact same day he had bought his car.

She was sensing a theme here.

If Lucifer had ever been abused, or his family had been marked for it, that should have shown up in his records. That was based on the hope his birth name really was Lucifer Morningstar. But even if he had legally changed it, there should have been a record of that too. Instead, she found absolutely nothing. It was like he had crawled out of a hole five years ago and began his life.

Clicking out of the database, she opened Google. Once again, she searched her partner's name.

It took a bit of fiddling with the filter option to remove the results related to the Bible or churches. Apparently, Lucifer's reputation did not exceed California as most of what she found was from local papers and magazines.

A few articles were about Lux but she ignored these as they were more about the club itself rather than the owner. It was not until midway through the seventh page of results that she found something.

It's one of those gaudy paparazzi sites, filled with candid photos of celebrities just trying to go about their lives. Lucifer had an entire page to himself, his name at the top in bright red font.

Most of the photos were of a very pissed off Maze holding her fists out threateningly with Lucifer in the background. A few, however, actually show the club owner without his ninja bartender.

One was of him playing the piano at Lux. The bar was almost completely empty, aside from a few people clustered on the couch to hear him play. Shot glasses are lined up along the top of the piano, an ashtray holding several cigarette butts.

Lucifer was looking down at his hands but his expression was completely lax, eyes hooded. He was leaning over the keys, in his own world as he played. She had never seen him like that, so completely enthralled.

Tearing her eyes away from the photo proves harder than she thought. There was something mesmerizing about it, about the curl of his fingers as they hovered delicately over the keys.

Clicking to the next photo, she gave her head a firm shake.

The next one was of the pool connected to Lux. A dozen people were in the water, most of them clutching plastic cups. Lucifer's back was to the camera, his shoulder's rolling as he shrugged out of his button up shirt.

This time, his scars are clearly visible.

She zoomed in on his back until the photo became somewhat grainy. The skin looks even worse, like the flesh had been melted. It cannot be a burn because there's no discoloration but she cannot imagine what else could have caused the spider web of scar tissue. They are the exact same shape and size, twin crescents that sit directly over his shoulder blades and frame his spine.

Abruptly, she clicks off, feeling sickened.

The clock shows it is past midnight now but she is too wired for sleep. The image of the scars refuse to dissipate, lurking in her vision.

She is now fairly certain that something terrible, something monstrous, happened to her partner in his youth. And from what she had gathered from his Biblical ramblings, he had gone through it all alone.

Chloe is not someone who can ignore suffering. It was the reason she became a cop, to make a difference. And she is certain this is one of those situations. If her father was still alive, he would never have ignored someone like Lucifer.

And she's not about to either.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - I'm happy everyone seems to be enjoying the story thus far. So many of the reviews left were from guest accounts so I could not respond to them but know I loved each and every one. Special thank you to OldGirl-NoraArlani and MidnightWriter44678 and everyone else who comments, favorites, or follows.

Let me know what you think and enjoy!

**Chapter Two - A Thousand Times**

One of the main factors that had drawn Lucifer to Lux was the views. The central location may be phenomenal for business but it paled in comparison to what sprawled before the penthouse balcony.

Neat rows of buildings went on in a seemingly endless grid, separated by traffic clogged roads. At night, those same roads would be illuminated in trails of red and yellows from car lights, the twinkles tangible even through the liberal amount of smog. Beyond the city were mountains, hazy and pale in the distance. Their jagged tips cut through the skyline, breaking up the endless blue.

Lux's penthouse had been well equipped to show off the mix of urban and rural. The floor to ceiling windows extended beyond the main living area, also covering two walls of the bedroom. And typically Lucifer adored this. Hell had no buildings, no features beyond the hard cold stone prison cells scattered across the kingdom. He found waking up and seeing the city before him to be a novel experience, proof that his time on earth had not simply been a dream.

Right now though, those wonderful windows could piss off.

The heavy bedroom curtains, stylish as they may be, did not do the best job of keeping out light. Stray beams managed to squeeze between the drapes, most settling on the massive king bed which took up a majority of the space. Lucifer groaned as one of these beams hit him directly in the face with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

Rolling the other way, he buried his head under the blankets and pillows, trying to settle back into sleep. As ready as his mind was to rest, however, his body had begun to wake up, starting with a burning weight in his bladder that went from merely noticeable to excruciating in a matter of moments.

Swinging his legs off the bed, he fumbled for the clock on the nightstand. The digital numbers were blurry before his vision but he could still make out the foggy one and two.

Noon already? Well, he _had _told Chloe he would be late, though this was a little extreme, even for him.

His bladder was practically screaming at him now, the shift in posture changing the distribution of pressure in his gut. Rising quickly, he padded to the bathroom, wishing he had not drunk quite so late the previous day. The Devil might be spared the joys of a hangover but all the other unpleasantness that accompanied late night drinking still existed.

The bathroom too had massive windows, so much sunlight spilling through that there was no need to turn on the overhead light. Shedding his boxers, he relieved himself before stepping into the shower.

The large glass cubicle could easily fit five people - he had checked. Three shower heads, all with different functions, gleamed. He chose the one nearest the windows, granting him a view of what was going on outside. Turning the golden knob to the hottest setting, he allowed the spray to douse him, one arm leaned against the wall as he watched the people out and about for their lunch breaks.

The hot water soothed the muscles in his back, especially his scars. When Maze had cut off his wings, she had refused to dig out the muscles that lay beneath the skin's surface. He could still feel those bundles of tendons twitch and shudder, unaware that part of his anatomy was missing. The feeling had been unpleasant for the first few months but as he became more accustomed, he had learned to essentially ignore it. Mornings could still be uncomfortable, especially if he had spent the night laying on his back, which made hot showers an integral part of his morning routine.

Water ran in rivets down his body, feather light strokes softer than the touch of any woman. Humming tunelessly under his breath, he cleaned himself quickly, one eye still trained on the outside world.

An unexpected burning pain nearly made him drop the conditioner bottle.

Looking down, he was met by the bullet gaze on his thigh. The area was already well on its way to healing but the skin was still broken and red. Frothing soap bubbles sat atop the injury. He swiped the soap off with his thumb but it did little to ease the sting. Abandoning the conditioner, he carefully washed out the graze with a cloth. Slowly, under clumsy ministrations, the pain eased back into a slight throb.

Frowning to himself, he turned off the water. He had half expected the wound to already be completely healed by now, he had even taken off and thrown away the bandage last night before retiring to bed. The worst injury he had ever received was the removal of his wings and even they had scarred over after only three horrific days. Maybe because the weapon had been man made it was healing differently. There was no one he could ask as Amenadiel was still, as far as he was aware, invulnerable to all but other angels and he would never pray to one of his other siblings and ask.

Toweling off carefully, he raided his sink drawers, eventually finding a crushed box of band aids wedged in the very back. Extracting one of the packages from within, he tried to peel it open. After ripping several in a row, he was finally successful in extracting a bandage. He had seen the device used on television before and called back to that knowledge, pulling off the pieces of wax paper which covered the sticky bits. With more apprehension than the situation called for, he placed the gauze piece directly over the graze and smoothed it out.

Tossing the rest of the box back into the drawer, he took a few cautious steps around his bathroom, delighted to find the band aid bended and moved like an additional layer of skin. Humans never ceased to amaze him with their curious inventions.

Dressing and styling his hair took another half hour, with a few bar breaks. The final touches, applying eyeliner and filling his hip flask, were completely just before one in the afternoon. Chloe was probably wondering where he was by now so he made the bed quickly and descended downstairs.

Lux was empty aside from Maze who was in the middle of inventory. She did not even look up as he left, well accustomed to his constant comings and goings. If he really needed her, he would have said so.

He was relieved that she was busy. Sooner or later, the fact he had been injured would come out and he did not want to deal with the repercussions sober. Maze could be quite the worrier and he was not interested in listening to yet another person tell him he should return to Hell. Los Angeles was his home now, Dad be damned.

The drive to the police station was boring and by the time he pulled his convertible into its spot besides Chloe's car, he was anxious for something interesting to happen. He noticed Dan's car in the next row, much to his delight.

Entering the L.A Police Station, he took the elevator to the homicide floor. The steel doors opened to a large balcony which overlooked the main room. Detectives were in varying states of solving their cases. Some slumped over desks, nearly buried in paperwork while others loitered by the coffee machine, investigations nearly finished.

Leaning against the railing, he scanned the room quickly for Chloe and found her almost immediately. Sat at her desk, she was staring at something on her computer screen with a look of fierce concentration, fingers drumming impatiently against the keyboard. It was rare for her to look so focused unless she was in the middle of an investigation. In which case, she would have called him so whatever had her attention was not work related. Curiosity piqued, he descended the stairs.

"Hello Detective" He said cheerily, coming around the desk to see her computer screen.

"Good morning." She clicked off whatever it was she was looking at, returning back to the home screen casually.

"Watching porn at work?" He took the seat beside the desk, the one that had all but become his property. Everyone knew better than to sit there, especially Dan, whom he had personally chased off the piece of furniture twice now.

His comment only earned an eye roll from Chloe. "Yeah, totally." she said offhandedly, opening a file on her desk.

"You were?" he asked, surprised. "Well Detective Decker, I never. I heard Madison Ivy was coming out with something new but I haven't seen it yet. Perhaps we could have a little viewing party at-"

"Joking Lucifer. Why would I watch porn at work?" she asked, exasperated already.

"Oh? So you watch it at home then?"

That earned him a pencil to the head. Rubbing his forehead, he grinned, enjoying her presence. Of all the humans he had met in the last five years, few had made any sort of impression on him. Chloe Decker was many of the things he valued. Sarcastic. Dark humored. _And_ she knew how to use a gun.

Oh, and she was impervious to his devilish abilities but the gun thing was way cooler.

For awhile, he watched her fill out paperwork from their last case. Her hand arched over the paper, small and messy handwriting so unlike his own telling the tale of the past thirty-six hours.

"When are we getting another case?" he asked once the novelty of watching her had worn off.

Chloe was only half finished with her paperwork, not even looking up. "Not for a bit, unless something big comes up. The lieutenant likes to keep the work spread out a bit so that no one gets burned out."

"Ah." He nodded sagely, catching sight of Dan from across the room. The other detective was on the phone, feet propped up on his desk, a grip strengthener in his free hand. "I suppose she takes her cues from Detective Douche. Clearly, the man is overworked."

Chloe snapped her folder shut. "That's it, you need a timeout."

"What? Detective, I am not a child!" he protested.

She shook her head. "Yes you are. C'mon, I need to get some lunch and I'm not leaving you on your own to create havoc here. That would just mean more paperwork for me." She got to her feet and waited, arms crossed, for him to do the same.

For a moment, he entertained the notion of refusing her request. What could she do to him? She was too small to forcefully move him after all. And if she were anyone else, that's exactly the course of action he would have taken. Chloe was different though…

Begrudgingly he too stood, adding a heavy sigh of exasperation so she knew how annoyed he was by the request. "Where are we going to eat?"

"The food truck outside. It's Tuesday so that means the taco truck should be here." She led the way to the elevators, looking over her shoulder every few steps to make sure he was still following her.

Still miffed about being treated like the Detective's spawn, he kept a fair distance between them, acting as if they just happened to be going in the same direction. His plan backfired when Chloe got into the elevator first and allowed the doors to closed on his surprised face, a smirk lurking on the corners of her mouth.

By the time he managed to get another elevator and stepped out into the parking lot, she was already sat down at one of the picnic tables used by the other officers. Striding over, he took a seat on the bench opposite her, eyeing her food suspiciously.

"How's you leg?" she asked around a mouthful of taco, brief spell of irritation forgotten.

"It's fine, I forgot all about the injury this morning. It hardly even hurts." He crossed his legs to demonstrate his mobility, foot kicking her knee under the table.

"Good." her eyes softened. "Lucifer, I really am sorry about what happened."

He waved her off impatiently. "Detective, you are not at fault. Let us no longer be plagued by the incident. I'm just glad I was not wearing a suit, some of mine are one of a kind."

For some reason, she found that comment highly amusing. Her face colored as she snorted, covering her mouth with a hand. Bemused, he handed her the napkin she had tucked under her water bottle. She accepted his offering gratefully.

"Thank you." she managed once she was back in control, though the occasional giggle still slipped out.

Lucifer was not sure what he had done that was so funny but he very much wanted to do it again. The Detective had a truly delightful laugh, a boisterous warm sound that was not forced or faked.

When the laughter finally died off, Chloe became more serious. "Look, I know you think what happened wasn't a big deal but I still feel terrible about it." Her face lit up. "Actually, how about you come over tonight for dinner? It would make me feel better about the whole thing. And Trixie's been texting me non stop today, asking how you're doing. It would mean a lot to her if you came over."

The human spawn cared about his well being? How… unusual. For the most part, he did not get on well with human children. Most of them seemed to sense something within him, a darkness that their innocent minds shied away from. Spending time with the Detective sounded nice though. The more time they spent together, the keener he was to continue their partnership.

"Of course Detective. What time?"

"How does seven sound? Trixie can't eat much later than that without going to bed late." She pushed her paper plate in his direction, offering him the last bite of her taco.

He took a long look at the greasy thing, torn between how wonderful it smelled and how gross it would feel in his hands. He compromised by wrapping one of the unused napkins around the taco shell and transferring the food to his mouth, which earned him another smile from Chloe. The taco tasted alright, a bit spicier than he would have preferred, and he mentally cataloged the name of the food truck in the back of his mind for future reference.

"Seven sounds wonderful." He wondered if he should bring white or red wine.

Chloe frowned suddenly as another thought crossed her mind. "Oh and Lucifer? This is just dinner okay? We're not going to… I mean, I don't want to…"

He listened to her fumble, puzzled.

She took a deep breath. "We're not… sleeping together okay? We're just going to have dinner like two platonic adults."

Oh. He blinked, not sure how to respond.

Misinterpreting his silence, Chloe blushed a furious red. "Oh, I've insulted you. I didn't mean to imply that sex is what you were thinking. Obviously you've had dinner with other people and it wasn't about-"

"I haven't." he said quietly.

She stared. "What?"

He cleared his throat. "I have not ever 'just had dinner' with someone. When I am invited somewhere for a meal, that meal is me." There was no arrogance to his tone, just the level tone of truth.

Chloe's eyes darted across his face, searching for something. The concern in her gaze did not sit well with him and he looked away, uncomfortable with the attention she was paying him. People did not look at him like that, with such openness. Lust and desire, he was accustomed to. Anger too. But unfiltered distress? That was a foreign emotion to him.

"Well if we're really to have no case, I suppose I will pop back home and arrange things for tonight." He needed to leave. The upset look in those blue eyes was doing something weird to his stomach.

"Okay." Chloe sounded disappointed but did not argue. "I'll see you later then?"

"Yes, I'll be there on time granted nothing amiss happens at Lux. Goodbye Detective." He was already up and moving away from her, needing to put some distance between them. His stomach was still doing the flipping thing and he felt all warm inside. Was he dying?

The drive home was a blur of honking horns and middle fingers as he switched lanes without a thought for other drivers, cutting them off as he sped down the highway. Music was roaring from his car speakers, fingers drumming to the rhythm though his thoughts were far removed from his current position.

Instead, all he could think about was the sad look Chloe had sported.

It was all so bizarre. His siblings, and certainly his Father, had never looked at him like that, as if his well being was important to them. Even Maze, as close as she was to him, used anger to convey her feelings. He had only known the Detective for a few months, mere moments in the life of an immortal and she already seemed to care for him more than his own family ever had.

He was not altogether sure what he had said that had made her look that way either. He replayed the conversation in his head but nothing stuck out as improper.

By the time he had pulled his car into the parking garage below Lux and taken the stairs to the penthouse, he was no closer to an answer. So lost in thought was he that he did not even notice the other person in the room until he was halfway to the bar.

"Lucifer."

He froze mid step, knowing that tone a tad too well. Turning slowly, he found Maze glaring lethally, demonic face threatening to break free. In her hand was a bloody bandage, the same bloody bandage he had thrown away the previous night.

"Ah hello Maze!" he said brightly, pretending all was well.

"Don't bullshit me!" She stalked forwards. "What the Hell is this?" She waved the bandage furiously.

"Well last night was quite interesting. I would have told you but you looked busy earlier when I left." He stalled, looking for something to use as a distraction from the conversation.

"Let me tell you what it looks like to me." She was standing toe to toe with him, teeth bared. "It looks like, as absolutely ridiculous as it sounds, you were injured last night. And I keep telling myself that's impossible because you obviously would have immediately informed me of such a development instead of hiding it like a prideful asshole."

He swallowed. "Well, you got it in one my dear. Though I resent the 'prideful asshole' comment - woah!" He jerked back, just in time to avoid the punch aimed at his groin.

"Are you _insane_!" she demanded. "How did this happen?"

He backed up a few steps, hands held out just in case she attacked again. Maze may be his protector but that did not stop her from thumping him every once in a while when she thought he was being especially stupid.

"I'm not sure. The Detective and I were at a crime scene and she… I was shot and started to bleed."

"This isn't good. We need to return to Hell."

"Return to Hell? Hardly." He walked behind the bar, perusing his stock. "I have no intention of returning Maze, you know that."

"That was before when you were still immortal!" she snapped.

He picked up an old bottle of scotch and poured the two of them drinks. "Maybe I am an immortal who bleeds. Besides, if I die, I return to Hell anyway. Either way, you win."

"This isn't about me!"

"Oh but I think it is." He handed her one of the glasses. "Because I have made my wishes on the topic perfectly clear."

She swallowed the liquid in one go, setting the glass back down sharply. "It is my duty to protect you, even from yourself."

"Careful Maze." He warned, her insolence awakening something deep within him. "Since coming to Earth, I have become lax and allowed you to address me however you please. Make no mistake, my patience is running thin."

"And so is mine! This visit to Earth was only ever supposed to be a vacation, something temporary. We've been here five years now. Lucifer, it's time to go home."

"You're starting to sound like Amenadiel, which I find mildly disturbing." Setting his glass back down, he wandered towards his massive closet, intending to choose an outfit for later.

Maze remained in the main room but he could still feel the anger wafting off her, even through the stone walls.

"I will not be in tonight until late. I trust you can handle things on your own." he called out to her.

"You're going out?"

He did not respond immediately, more concerned with choosing a color dress shirt for the evening. Red was his go to color for a night out but Chloe had made her expectations for the night quite clear. Maybe something more neutral like grey?

"The Detective invited me over for dinner." His gaze trailed to the shirt he had been wearing when he and Chloe had first met.

The smokey grey shirt was nothing special by his standards but looked rather when paired with a black suit. Now for shoes…

"Oh, she's finally going to sleep with you?" Maze's voice had lost its edge, curiosity replacing her anger.

"Unfortunately no. She made it explicitly clear this was just dinner. Who knows, this might be fun. No one has ever invited me over for an evening unless they wanted sex."

"What's the point if there's no sex?"

"I'm not sure actually." He frowned to himself, wondering how else their time would be spent.

Dinner was all well and good but eating was not exactly a time consuming activity. What would happen after? His mind flashed back to a thousand other similar encounters, all of which ended with stained bed-sheets and satisfied participants. None of that would be present this time.

He moved his chosen attire to the bathroom to put on later. It was not even two yet, leaving him plenty of time to get ready. Not sure what else to do, he returned to the main room, noticing Maze had disappeared, and took a seat on the couch, turning on the television and flipping through the channels.

Television was something he never tired of. There was no equivalent to it in Heaven or Hell. His first few weeks on Earth, he had spent copious amounts of time watching porn. Gradually, he had learned that the device offered far more than easy wank sessions. Movies in particular had become something of an obsession for him. He had devoured hours upon hours of everything from mindless action like the Body Bags series to the musicals of the 1960s. Books were all well and good but there was something simply awe inspiring about the composition of movies, similar to the complexities he loved about music.

Of course, porn was his first love. And seeing as he was not going to see any action tonight with the detective…

The trusty box of tissues was waiting on the coffee table besides an innocent bottle of hand lotion. He pulled a few tissues out, deciding to spend the rest of his afternoon doing something constructive...

* * *

"Mommy, will he be here soon?" Trixie bounced around the kitchen excitedly, unaware of the tripping hazard she had become.

"Soon Monkey." Stepping gingerly so as not to fall and die over her offspring, Chloe set the tray of breaded chicken into the oven.

Dinner tonight was an underwhelming chicken Parmesan but it was the best she could do when one of the people eating was not even eight yet. She had spent the last hour trying to find ways to spruce up the dish, well aware of the money Lucifer had and the places he frequented for dinner. Her efforts were almost comical when compared to his regular diet of caviar and hundred dollar mushrooms. She refused to feel sub par though.

Her mother may never have been wealthy at the height of her career, but the Decker's had certainly lived comfortably. Every night had been another dip into the exotic world of money, golden rimmed plates piled high with dishes whose names she could never pronounce. And during all that time all she had really wished for was a real home cooked meal.

Besides, who didn't love piles of cheese and marinara sauce?

Trixie was still underfoot, rushing to the window every time a car passed the house, only to sprint back into the kitchen to check on the cooling plate of cookies she had helped make earlier. As cute as the behavior was, Chloe was beginning to seriously worry for her safety.

"Trixie, why don't you go and set the table?" she asked, hoping the distraction would be enough for her to finish dinner.

"Okay!" Trixie collected utensils from the silverware drawer and began to lay out forks and knives with her nose scrunched up in a look of fierce concentration.

Momentarily free of distraction, Chloe returned to finishing dinner. It was close to seven and Lucifer had given his word that he would not be late, which meant she could expect him at any moment. Delusions aside, the man was truthful to a fault, another mystery she needed to solve.

All morning at the precinct, she had searched for as much information as possible on Lucifer. The dismal amount of facts she had uncovered were now carefully recorded in a file hidden in her work briefcase. He had nearly caught her when he had showed up unexpectedly. Living with a small child however had taught her how to change television channels or websites quickly so as to not scar her daughter and she was certain he had not seen anything.

The complete lack of information about his immediate family had been, frankly, baffling. A hundred different searches had provided absolutely nothing about anyone with the surname Morningstar aside from Lucifer himself and a few Las Vegas stage actors who she was certain were not related in any way to her partner. The lack of information, far from deterring her, made her all the more driven to find answers and help him.

Because no one received scars like that without having a horror story to accompany them.

Despite her quest for answers however, she was not interested in bringing anything up tonight. This dinner was her way of apologizing for shooting him, nothing more. More than anything, she wished Lucifer would simply just tell her the truth instead of leaving her to dig through Google. But that was not a fair request. They had only known each other for a bit, she did not deserve his truth yet. Someday though...

For the hundredth time in the last hour, she looked down and checked her outfit. Despite her declaration that this was merely a casual dinner, she had agonized over what to wear. Lucifer would undoubtedly show up in a suit but that was like a regular person wearing jeans and a tee shirt. She had settled on dress slacks and a white turtleneck, similar to what she normally wore to work. It was a nice outfit and, more importantly, still kept to the side of reserved.

The familiar sound of crunching gravel traveled through the open windows, headlights illuminating the outside and warding off the twilight.

"He's here!" Trixie bolted towards the door and unlocked it just as a smart rap sounded.

Chloe hurried forward, pulling open the door while simultaneously acting as a barrier between her hug eager daughter and her partner.

"Hey. You're right on time. Come in." She shuffled backwards, grasping Trixie's shoulder to keep her contained.

Lucifer stepped inside. "Of course I'm on time. I'm a devil of my word after all." He held out his hand, which grasped two bottles of wine. "I was not sure what you were serving so I brought red and white."

"Oh, you didn't have to do that." She took the bottles, which also released her daughter.

"I assure you, it was no trouble at all - Eugh!" He cut off abruptly as Trixie took advantage of her mother's lapse in attention and grabbed him around the waist in a hug.

Everyone froze for a moment, though for very different reasons. Trixie, target acquired, held onto Lucifer with a look of triumph. Her victim, however, looked positively horrified, brows raised and mouth agape. Chloe was torn between amusement and sadness at what she was witnessing.

"Hi Lucifer!" Trixie smiled up at him toothily, unaware of the discomfort the man was in.

"Er… yes, hello spawn." He reached down uncertainly, unsure how to free himself of the embrace.

It was no secret Lucifer was not big on the whole touching thing. Chloe suspected one of the things that had caused immediate hatred between Dan and Lucifer was the former's habit of clapping others on the back. The first time such a thing had occurred between the two, Lucifer had jumped a good mile and actually bared his teeth at the other man. She had always chocked it up to being one of his eccentricities but now?

She had never seen someone look so nonplussed by something as mundane as a hug.

"Trixie, why don't you wash up for dinner?" She beckoned to her daughter, wanting to separate them.

Her daughter released Lucifer immediately. "Ok mommy." she said, disappearing up the stairs to the main bathroom.

The moment she was out of sight, Lucifer was back to being calm and collected, straightening the nonexistent wrinkles on his shirt.

"I'm sorry about that." Chloe set the wine bottles on the counter. "I should have talked to her beforehand about hugging."

Try as he might to hide it, she could still tell Lucifer was bothered by what had just transpired. He was holding himself a bit too rigidly, eyes trained on the stairs where Trixie had disappeared. His hand was tapping against his leg, a habit she was starting to realize meant he was agitated by something.

"It's quite alright Detective. Though I must admit, I am not entirely sure why the child feels the need to constantly touch. Is it a deformity?"

Surely he must be joking. Thinking hugging was a mark of a disability or something?

But Lucifer was watching her expectantly, waiting for her answer.

Chloe felt her heart sink at his curious expression. _No way,_ she thought.

"It's not a… deformity Lucifer. Kids like hugs, it's normal actually." She smiled though it felt rather forced. "Don't you remember your parents hugging you?"

At that, he looked completely baffled, head cocking slightly. "No." he said simply. "Were they supposed to?"

And now her chest was hurting like when she listened to sad music.

"Never?" She could not believe what he was saying. As a mother, there was no greater joy for her than loving her daughter. Some of the best nights of her life involved the two of them curled up on the couch as they watched television together or played board games.

Lucifer did not appear to find anything wrong with what he had just confessed. "No. A few of my siblings were touchy feely in their youth but they grew out of it quickly enough thankfully."

Her ache grew tenfold at the casual way he explained being denied basic affection as a child. And not just him. He had mentioned siblings. Had he grown up with those sort of parents who lived alone in the woods like a cult? It would certainly explain his confusion over emotions at least.

Trixie coming back into the room stilled Chloe's thoughts.

"Lucifer, you should sit next to me!" Her daughter grasped one of Lucifer's massive hands with her tiny ones and was trying to direct him to the seat beside her own. For a moment, his eyes were nearly wild, a spark of fear at the sudden intrusion into his personal space initiating the fight or flight instinct. Then they settled again into deep discomfort though he did allow himself to be led to the table.

The change in demeanor was so fast, just like the previous night, that Chloe only caught it because she was been paying close attention. Already though, any hint of fear and uncertainty had been swallowed by his usual millionaire playboy exterior. He sat commandingly in the dining room chair, almost as if it were a throne.

The stove timer beeped imploringly and Chloe pulled dinner out, though her eyes flickered to the table every few seconds. Trixie was talking adamantly to Lucifer who was listening and responding though he still seemed off put by the whole scenario.

"Today at school I got a sticker on my spelling test." She was sitting sideways in her chair, feet swinging.

"Er, excellent."

"And we drew pictures too!"

"Education certainly seems to be intellectually stimulating." he said dryly.

A smile had slid onto his face. Not the dazzling look he usually wore but something softer, more genuine. Chloe was caught up in the look, in the way his eyes lost their wary edge. As far as she was concerned, this look suited him far more than the wolfish smirk she was more accustomed to.

She nearly tripped when bringing the tray of chicken parm to the table, though thankfully no one noticed. Face heated, she took her own seat across from Lucifer and her daughter. Trixie wasted no time in procuring what was, in her mind, the cheesiest piece of chicken. Balancing the piece of meat on the spatula, she tried to bring it to her plate.

Chloe sensed danger immediately, reaching across the table to stop the chicken from falling onto the table but Lucifer was quicker. His hand grasped Trixie's wrist and with a practiced flick, he slid the food neatly onto her plate. He released her immediately, wiping his hand off on his napkin.

"When do children develop proper motor functions?" he asked. "Or do they stay this clumsy until adulthood?"

"I have motor functions!" Trixie protested.

He rolled his eyes. "If I had not intervened, you would have gotten sauce everywhere. Sauce stains by the way."

"Enough." Chloe said, feeling as if she were talking to two children. The pair eyed her, both contemplating the repercussions of ignoring her demand. Trixie was the first to falter, turning her attention to her dinner. Lucifer stared for a moment longer before shrugging slightly and reaching for his own piece of chicken.

A rush of affection soothed her irritation as she watched the two of them eat for a moment. They really were quite similar, prone to temper tantrums and eager to cause havoc. For someone who knew absolutely nothing about children, Lucifer really was childlike.

"The food is wonderful Detective.". Though he was trying to maintain his composure, Lucifer's eyes gleamed with delight as he ate.

"Oh, thank you." Chloe was surprised by the compliment. The meal was nothing special, just a regular Wednesday dish, but Lucifer was eating with gusto.

He paused long enough to grin at her. "Of course. What do you call this dish?"

"Chicken parm." Trixie's eyes were wide. "You've never had any before?"

"No. This is a new venture for me." He took another piece off the tray.

Chloe opened her mouth to redirect the conversation. She could physically see the next question brewing behind Trixie's dark eyes and knew what she was going to ask.

"So, how was the drive-" she began but too late.

"What were your parents like?" Trixie asked at nearly the same time.

Lucifer paused with his glass of water - Chloe would not allow wine at the table with her daughter - partly raised to his lips. Lowering the cup, the brightness faded from his eyes, his mouth settling into a thin line.

"Trixie, that was a very personal question." Chloe reprimanded, watching Lucifer's walls build themselves back up.

"No Detective." He waved her off. "It's fine. Of course she's interested. I am fascinating after all." He spoke lightly but tension was coiling through him, one fist unconsciously clenching on the table top.

"I'm sorry Lucifer." Trixie said quietly, eyes downcast.

"Think nothing of it spawn." He wiped his mouth with his napkin, gathering his thoughts. "My parents were powerful beings. Mum was a creator. Dad, an innovator. They built the home my siblings and I grew up in. But they were cruel too. Dad expected us to follow His every order blindly, like soldiers. And when I refused to play along…" he swallowed, adam's apple bobbing. "When I refused, He casted me out."

His blatant honesty startled Chloe, who had expected him to spew more angelic nonsense. Lucifer's head dropped forward, his gaze settling onto where his hands were clasped neatly in his lap.

"Lucifer." she said softly, horrified.

All the information she had collected. His scars, fear of physical contact, a strict father… the picture was grim.

Abruptly, Lucifer stood. "Thank you for dinner but I really must be going."

"Right." Chloe rose as well. "Trixie, time for bed."

As much as she did not want Lucifer to leave, she knew he needed space. Forcing her company on him would do nothing. Still, she was worried.

"Bye Lucifer." Trixie hesitated before creeping towards her bedroom, looking over her shoulder the whole time.

"Goodnight Spawn." He unrolled his sleeves, shrugging back into his vest and jacket hurriedly.

Chloe intercepted him before he could escape through the door. "Hey," she said a hand gently on his upper arm and feeling his muscles tense beneath. "You know I'm here right? If you ever need to talk to someone…"

He nodded, that false smirk back in place though his brow was heavy with things she could not fathom. "Yes Chloe, I know."

And then he was gone, the door to his convertible hardly closing before he was pulling out of the driveway.

For a long time, Chloe stayed rooted to the spot on the porch. It was dark now, only the flickering street lamps giving any sort of salvation. Her mind was curiously blank at the moment. She should be rushing around, putting these new puzzle pieces into her file for closer examination.

Instead, she listened to the ocean waves lap softly against the sand, an endless cycle.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N - Okay seriously you guys are the greatest! The support this story has received already is incredible. This chapter is darker than the previous and sort of sets the tone for the remainder of the story. Anyone who likes angsty Lucifer, I think I've delivered in bucket loads. _

_I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter 3 - Electric Feel**

Of all the hundreds of instruments which had existed through time, none had captured Lucifer's attention quite like the piano. He could fly from deep thunderous bellows to fragile birdlike notes, fingers caught in a dance all their own. It was an activity that required him to be present in the moment, a stray thought liable to send soaring melodies crashing to the ground in a dismal grating wreckage.

Usually the piano in Lux was used only to entertain the masses. His personal compositions and such had a home with the penthouse piano, the more personal of the two. Those keys had played everything from Mozart to Horner, some of the stories they told so old, he alone remembered them.

Tonight, however, he was not in the mood to play something for the club goers.

It was only half past ten, rather early for Lux's crowd. Despite that, he had been playing for well over an hour already, sliding from one song to the next. The empty glasses lined up atop the piano were the only indication for him that time was passing at all, the tumblers sparkling faintly from the overhead lights. He was in no mood to sing, this performance was for him alone. The club could be empty for all he cared, focus tunneling so it only encompassed the rows of white and black keys.

He could not remember the name of the song which he was currently playing. It was something he had heard in passing, a few bars which had stuck resolutely in his mind. The piece was not overly complex and he had been able to replicate it after only a few hours of fiddling. There was a mournful aspect to it, a tugging which he felt deep in his chest.

Rage and hatred he had learned in Heaven but it was music that had taught him of the deep rivers of grief and the brilliant but sparse gleams of hope. Of the lone mountain of isolation and the sprawling valley of peace. It was the spark which could never be snuffed out in Hell no matter how the cold winds howled and brayed in defiance of all that was good.

It was the light which had kept the Morningstar burning.

Someone slid onto the bench beside him, the cushion shifting. He looked over, momentarily forgetting what he was doing. The melody slipped between his fingers. He fumbled to preserve it but the notes crumpled upon themselves, a crushing silence taking their place. The noises of Lux, of which he had been oblivious to until this point, came rushing back in an angry wave. Clicking glasses and scraping feet throbbed in his ears, dispelling the beauty of only a moment ago.

This was why he seldom played like this in the club. He loathed being interrupted while using the piano, a rule which even Maze respected. Turning, he faced the person who had just ruined his mood.

"Do you always just insert yourself into people's space like this?" He asked pointedly to the woman now sitting beside him.

She was rather staring at him with that dazed look of someone who had been ensnared by his charm. Eyes, surrounded by far too much makeup for his taste, were already dilated with unbridled desire. It was surprising he could not smell her arousal already. She looked ready to jump him at any moment.

"You're Lucifer Morningstar!" She said breathlessly, gaze roving over him hungrily.

She was rather younger, not much older than twenty-three by his estimation. For whatever reason, his affect on women seemed to increase exponentially the younger they were. He was not altogether sure what caused this phenomenon but usually he considered it an attribute. Right now, it was the farthest thing from. He knew that look too well, the near desperation that was driving her into an almost frenzied state. Walking away would not be enough to break the connection. No, she had been given a small taste of his drug and was now desperate for a larger dose.

Sighing heavily, he drained one of the tumblers on the piano, allowing the liquid to burn a slow trail down his throat before it settled warmly in his stomach. To say he was not in the mood for sex was a bit of an understatement. He found the woman before him simply repulsive at the moment, the cynical part of his mind irritated by her pathetic display even though he was aware she could not help it. He always seemed to draw out the worst in people didn't he?

"Yes. I know who I am. Who might you be?" He was walking a very fine line between formal and sarcasm.

The woman noticed none of this, more concerned with getting closer to him. "My name is Sadie." She scooted closer in what she must have thought was a seductive move, teeth flashing as she smiled.

"Rather fitting what with this whole Sadie Hawkins routine." He stood, wanting to put a bit of distance between them. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to check on my bartender and make sure she's behaving."

It was not a lie. Maze had started becoming a little violent when people complained about being cut off and he was getting tired of sleeping with every person she hit. Sex in exchange for not being sued was all well and good but the experience left him feeling decidedly cheap.

A hand wrapped around his own and he jerked out the grip reflectively. When the Detective's spawn had grabbed him during his visit three days ago he had felt uncomfortable but had recognized the innocence of the action. This grip was different, possessive even.

"Wait, I need you." Sadie implored, kneeling on the piano stool.

He glared, tired of playing nice. He was the bloody Devil. "Yes well, I most certainly do not need you."

His insult, far from dousing the fire, instead caused the mere flame to explode into an inferno. Before he could stop her, the woman was all over him, arms wrapping around his neck and her lips far too close for comfort.

"Oh you like to play?" Unable to capture his lips, she settled for licking sloppily at his ear. "Me too."

This was getting to be entirely too much. All he had really wanted was a quiet evening in. Between Amenadiel and Maze, all he heard anymore was about how he needed to return to Hell or suffer the consequences. He was tired of it all, of everyone trying to force him to do something he did not want to do.

"Er… boss?"

Lucifer whirled, Sadie still wrapped around him desperately, and met the apprehensive gaze of Patrick, one of the bartenders.

"Yes?" He asked, tipping his head back to avoid that damn tongue. Licking was all fine and good but the amount of saliva now coating the side of his neck was disgusting.

"Um… you have a call." Patrick dipped his head apologetically and retreated back to the bar.

He would have thanked God for receiving a call at this moment but he knew better. If anything, Sadie was the gift from his father. It was incredible, really, how such a horny woman could be so damn bad at seduction.

"It's been truly awful getting to know you but unfortunately I need to attend to that call." He used his superior strength to literally pry the woman off him and sent her staggering into the railing surrounding the pit where the piano sat. Before she could recover, he was away, sliding through the crowd as if he were swimming. Reaching the bar, he found Maze boredly holding the phone out to him.

"It's that fake blonde you work with."

He ignored the comment, cradling the phone to his ear. "Hello Detective!"

"Hey Lucifer. I know it's late but we have a case. If you can't make it I understand." Chloe said without any preamble, already in work mode.

"Actually, this is just what I need. I'll be right there."

After getting the location of the crime scene, he hung up and left Lux, taking the side exit so as to avoid meeting any crazy women.

The late night meant the roads were clear and the ride, to a restaurant located only two miles from Lux, was accomplished in record time. Flashing police lights and yellow tape met him long before he was near the building in question so he parked illegally on the shoulder and finished his journey on foot.

Most of the focus was on the narrow alley that separated the restaurant, a two star place named 'The Rabbit House', and the office building next store. Homicide officers crawled all over the scene, forensics camera flashes going off like fireworks in the dimly lit area. Most of the officers already knew him and no one made a fuss as he approached the body sprawled face down on the ground.

The man was exceedingly ordinary from what Lucifer could make out. He was dressed in jeans and a simple black hoodie. His sneakers were some knock off brand, the only thing interesting being the mismatched shoe laces.

Oh that and the bullet hole in the back of the chap's head. He would have spotted it sooner had the man's abysmal fashion not distracted him.

"Lucifer!" Chloe was approaching quickly, tucking her notepad back into her pocket.

"Hello Detective!" He casually stepped over the dead body to reach her. "What are we looking at? A crime of passion? A case of mistaken identity? A gang war?" He added the last option hopefully.

She shook her head. "I'm not sure yet." She looked down at the body thoughtfully. "We have no ID yet. The victim was not carrying any form of identification, not even a wallet. He was shot execution style based on forensics' preliminary finding but without an ID it's going to be tough progressing much farther."

He was not really paying attention to what Chloe was saying, more caught up with how she said it. Whoever claimed women were weak had clearly never met the Detective. She spoke with confidence, brow furrowed as a thousand scenarios chased each other around in her head. Already, he knew, she had a dozen likely theories and the case had only just begun.

"So Johnny Doe here was the intended target?" he asked, realizing Chloe had stopped talking and was waiting impatiently for him to add something.

"I think so. This wasn't just a stray bullet he caught. Someone deliberately shot him."

"So are you thinking his ID was intentionally stolen then? If he was purposefully shot, it stands to reason the shooter knew him." He saw the framework she was building and grasped onto it, filling in a few holes with his own theory.

"Maybe. But why take his ID? We'll still be able to find out who he is. Dan is back at the station going through missing person reports and even if he doesn't find anything, forensics will have the results from fingerprinting tomorrow." She chewed thoughtfully on her lip.

"Tomorrow?" He was surprised.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "This isn't television Lucifer. Making a positive ID takes more than a few minutes."

"I gave up a night with a very interested woman for this." He complained.

In actuality, he could care less about missing out on time with Sadie. He did not do desperate. Those sort of women became terribly clingy and he was not interested. The Detective did not need to know that though. Besides, complaining always made him feel better.

Chloe watched him speculatively. "You know, you say you hate hugs but you don't mind sex. Why is that?" She immediately colored at asking something so personal, face turning a fantastic shade of red.

The question confused him, his head cocking slightly. "Well hugs and sex are two completely different things aren't they? Sex is just casual, a release if you will. Certainly, it is more pleasurable with another body but it means nothing."

Oh he had said something wrong hadn't he? Chloe was gaping at him like a fish.

"So you think sex is meaningless but hugs aren't?" She asked in a high pitched tone he had never heard her use.

"Well, yes." He frowned at her odd reaction. "You can have sex with a hundred strangers but generally, humans only hug those they are close to."

His explanation, far from clearing that look from Chloe's face, was actually worsening it. Her eyes were bright, the blue coloring standing out vibrantly.

"Haven't you ever slept with someone you cared about?" She wiped furiously at her eyes and he was dismayed to see her sleeve was wet.

Why was she crying?

"Detective…" He reached forward uncertainly, not wanting her to be upset but simultaneously having absolutely no idea what she needed.

"I'm fine." She cleared her throat. "Just had something in my eye."

"Oh, right." He shifted uncomfortably, knowing she was lying to him. Maybe answering her question would make her feel better. "And no, I've never fornicated with someone I cared about. Does it feel different or something?" He desperately wanted to understand this for her but it was simply too far from his comprehension.

Chloe stared for a long moment before abruptly leading him towards the back of the alley. He followed, wondering what was going on.

When they were out of earshot of everyone else, Chloe answered him, lip trembling. "Sex is more than just pleasure, it's about connecting with someone else. When you care for someone deeply… there's something special about that. It does feel different but I can't explain to you. I'm sorry."

Now his interest was piqued. 'Deep connection' sounded an awful lot like a euphemism for better orgasms.

"So how do I go about getting this 'deeper connection'?" He asked, missing the way Chloe's face fell at his ignorance.

"Isn't it obvious Lucifer? It's love."

His excitement popped like a balloon.

"Oh right. Obviously." It wasn't obvious. Not to him at least. Humans were always going on about this love thing but he did not understand it in the least. Fondness, he got that. But love? He loved playing the piano but that did not mean he wanted to hump the damn thing.

Chloe had reached her limit of awkward for the night. "C'mon, let's go and meet up with Dan. The quicker we know who the victim is, the sooner we can catch whoever did this."

"You're right. This is a delicate matter. I wouldn't trust Dan with it either." He said seriously, eager to pretend the last ten minutes had not happened.

Chloe raised a brow, all traces of her discomfort hidden. "That's not what I meant and you know it. Why do you hate him anyway?"

They made their way back towards their vehicles, Lucifer shortening his stride so they could walk side by side. "I would not say I hate Daniel, quite the opposite. He is a rather amusing man when he is angry."

"So you piss him off for a laugh?" She asked hotly and Lucifer was reminded of the fact that the person he was currently taking to was still married to said Douche.

"Not entirely." He frowned. "He's an odd human. Everyone seems to like him and he's always touching. I thought the spawn's fondness of hugging was from him, a genetic thing. That was why I referred to it as a deformity."

"You heckle Dan because he's nice?" Chloe had stopped mid step, one foot raised ridiculously.

He stopped as well, half turned towards her. "Like I said Detective, it's simply not natural. He makes friends far too easily and he's nice to even those he hates. It's all a lie… and that makes him a Douche" And with that he continued on to his car, climbing in and making the long drive to the station.

He snorted to himself, replaying the conversation he had just had. To him it made perfect sense. Touching aside, Dan was nice to a fault while at the station. No matter the relationship he had with another officer, he was nothing but friendly and professional. Repressing emotions like that surely could not be good. Lucifer never pretended to like someone. Case in point, that dreadful Sadie. Had he played nice, his evening would have turned out quite differently. He would be stuck buried in some pathetic woman instead of solving a case with Chloe.

Pulling into the station parking garage, he parked in the first available spot and climbed out, waiting for Chloe herself to appear. He lit a cigarette while he waited, leaning against the hood of his convertible and watching the smoke curl lazily.

Due to the late hour, it was nearly silent in the parking garage, the dull hum from the lights his only company. He wished the Detective would hurry, he did not want to left alone with his thoughts right now.

The humming cut off.

He looked up sharply, scanning the area. Something was different. Pulling the cigarette from his lips, he tossed it to the ground.

It hovered in midair.

"Brother, as much as I enjoy your little party trick, I'm tiring of it." He said irritably.

The cigarette hit the cracked concrete as time was restored and he grinded it under his heel.

"Oh, you're tired? How many times have we spoken now about you returning to Hell?" Amenadiel had appeared about ten feet away, arms crossed.

"Well if you had actually listened to me, this whole thing could have been cleared up months ago." He was not in the mood for another round of this shit.

"Lucifer, I understand your position, truly. But you must also understand mine. In your absence, it is I who watches over Hell and, as we can both agree, I am not designed for that."

"Oh?" Lucifer stalked forward. His veins felt like fire was pulsing through them. "And why would that be brother?"

Amenadiel refused to shrink back but he had become wary, some of his bravado fading. "You know what I mean. I'm an angel, one of Father's soldiers and you-"

Lucifer cut him off. "And I'm what exactly? Last I checked, I am still a celestial being."

He was so damn tired of this. Tired of being told who he was.

"You're evil brother." Amenadiel said sharply, hands balling into fists. "And don't you deny it. Why else would Father have sent you to Hell to reign?"

Amenadiel spoke with such certainty and it turned Lucifer's stomach to ice. Did his brother really think so poorly of him? He may not have got on well with most of his siblings, especially right before the fall, but he and Amenadiel had always been alright. He was one of the few who had bothered to visit him in Hell once or twice a millennia.

"Of course I'm evil." He spat the word bitterly. "He forced me to become a torturer, made me perform the tasks He didn't have the balls too!"

He never saw Amenadiel's fist fly. He felt it though, felt the devastating impact against his jaw. The sheer force caused him to stumble backwards, a hand raised to touch the area which was a mix of numbness and shooting pain. Amenadiel was coming at him again, fist cocked for another blow. Lucifer prepared himself to fight, even though it was the last thing he wanted.

"LAPD!" A voice roared and suddenly another figure was between them, holding a badge at Amenadiel furiously.

Lucifer blinked, startled to find the puny human standing between two of Heaven's strongest creations to be none other than Daniel.

"Assaulting a police consultant is just as bad as attacking an officer." Dan said to Amenadiel who clearly had no idea what to do now that a human had entered the fray. It served him right, acting all righteous when in actuality he knew absolutely nothing about Earth.

"Daniel, leave it." Lucifer said, his anger draining away. The pain in his cheek had settled into a furious throb which made talking hurt.

Dan gave him a disbelieving look over his shoulder. "Are you for real man? This dude just decked you!"

"I know precisely what he did. I was there." he said dryly. "But I have no wish to press charges and, unless I am mistaken, that means you are to let him go."

Dan hesitated but after a heartbeat, he jerkily stuck his badge back onto his belt. "Fine. Whatever. You," he pointed at Amenadiel. "Get lost."

The angel needed no urging. He took off immediately, the only thing stopping him from flying being the rules about humanity witnessing divinity.

The moment Amenadiel retreated, Dan rounded on Lucifer. "What the fuck man? Why didn't you want to press charges?"

"It was not a big deal Daniel, just a spat between brothers." He winced, speaking sending sharp needles of pain through the left side of his face.

"What? That dude was your brother?"

"Stop repeating what I say." He cupped his jaw and talked from between clenched teeth.

Dan looked like he wanted to press the issue but understood Lucifer was in a fair bit of pain. Not that the angel could see it, but the skin under his hand was already becoming red and swollen.

"I… why were you fighting?" He finally asked.

"Because dear old Dad wants me to return to someplace I don't want to and He sent Amenadiel as the messenger." He said listlessly, tiredness making him truthful.

The pain in his jaw paled in comparison to the block of ice in his gut. Amenadiel had called his evil so casually, as if that was his only defining characteristic. Was that how conversations in the Silver City went now? Michael was strong, Gabriel was funny, and Lucifer was evil?

"You should go home and ice that so it doesn't swell too badly." Dan said quietly. "I'll tell Chloe where you've gone when she gets here."

"Thank you Daniel." He said curtly, heading straight for his car.

Dan fidgeted for a moment. "Oh and Lucifer? No one can tell you what to do."

He grinned as he climbed into the convertible. "You've never met my family. Control is kind of my Dad's whole shtick."

He peeled out before Dan could say anything else, ill at ease over everything that had happened during the night. A desperate woman, Chloe's speech about love, Amenadiel's derision, and now Daniel offering him advice?

He could feel no shittier about himself than he did in that moment.

When he arrived at Lux, he did not head immediately to the penthouse. Instead, he entered the club, intending to make sure nothing was amiss. He trusted Maze implicitly of course but he could never be too careful.

Everything was as it should so he took the elevator upstairs. He hoped Dan was right about the ice, he was not interested in dealing with a swollen face for the next few days. His accelerated healing did not include injuries from other angels. Just as with any human, he would have to wait a good week before the bruising faded. Interesting how a punch from his brother was worse than a bullet wound.

The elevator doors opened and he relaxed the moment he stepped across the threshold. This was his home and no one could take that from him. Not Maze. Not Amenadiel. And certainly not his Dad.

He shrugged out of suit jacket, throwing it across one of the bar stools, and went to pour himself a drink.

"There you are."

He spun around, ready to smash a tequila bottle over the intruder's head. Standing with her arms propped on the bar top was the woman from earlier, Sadie.

Slowly, he lowered the tequila, replacing it on the shelf. Oh fuck him, honestly. After everything, this was how his night was to end? Fighting off this woman for the second time?

"I've been waiting for you for hours." she simpered. "You just disappeared so I came up here."

Actually, what was it the Detective had been saying about deep connections? He called back to every love making session he had ever witnessed on television. Poor technique aside, they always started slow, almost like worship. Well, he could do that. Couldn't he?

Prowling around the bar, he grinned crookedly. "All this time? And what have you been doing?"

Sadie could not contain herself, not now when he was turning up the desire factor into overdrive. She flung herself at him, legs wrapping around his waist as she grabbed fistfuls of his hair and crushed their lips together.

She was doing this too fast, it wasn't right. He carried her into the bedroom, hoping to regain control over their tempo, and collapsed on the bed with her. Immediately, her hands were unbuttoning his shirt. He caught her fingers between his, trying to slow her process but she would not be denied.

For several fruitless minutes, he battled with her, wanting to stop the franticness of her movements. She ignored his attempts, ripping his shirt in her haste while shoving at his pants.

At some point, he just gave up. He stopped resisting and she was all over him again. Hands were in his pants but there was nothing pleasurable about it. He was merely a sex doll to her, that was all. That realization stole any last bits of hope he had and he did not even hesitate when she pushed him backwards, straddling his hips.

She rode him furiously, too busy with her own pleasure to notice he was not even responding. He waited impatiently for her to finish, knowing he would never reach his own release.

Everything about this felt wrong. He felt used.

When Sadie finished with a loud groan, he wasted no time in separating from her. Climbing off the bed, he fumbled for his robe, wrapping it around himself tightly. Sadie is already asleep, her loud snores grating on his every nerve.

Descending into the main room, he makes for the couch. No way in Hell is he going to spend the night in his bed. Tomorrow, he'll have Maze burn the sheet… maybe the blankets too. Fuck it, she could burn down the whole penthouse for all he cared at the moment.

Curling up on the couch, he hugged one of the pillows to his chest and cursed Chloe for ruining this for him. She went on and on about love and how important it was. But how could he do it? How could he offer love if he had never felt it? Maybe he did not need love. If it had been missing this whole time, then maybe he never needed it in the first place.

He tried to convince himself of it, chanted the words over and over in his head. And that was how he finally fell asleep, trying to convince himself that if he did not need love, then Amenadiel's words should not have hurt and Sadie using him should not have made him feel worthless.


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N - I apologize for the wait. Updates from here on out will be every two weeks or so. Special thank you to hufflelit, MidnightWriter44678, jjskywriter, ishouldbedoinghomework, ShelbyT, Cathy Sullins, Dobby and Padfoot, the-darker-side-of-things, and OldGirl-NoraArlani as well as everyone else who reviews. _

_The feedback I get from you guys is very important to me because it lets me know what is and is not working. My outlines are minimalistic in nature, just the bare bones of what I want to accomplish, so hearing you weigh in helps me figure out directions and such._

_I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Four - Into The River**

Chloe tapped a pencil against her desk, gaze sweeping the bullpen impatiently as she searched for Dan. It was painfully early, not yet eight, but she had been at work for over an hour already, not wanting to waste any more time with her current case. Forensics was supposed to have the ID of the victim any time now. Dan's search through the missing person reports had not yielded any results, setting the case back further than Chloe was comfortable with.

And speaking of Dan…

She had arrived at the precinct late last night only to find Lucifer suspiciously absent and Dan waiting for her in the parking garage. He had acted cagey, not giving an exact reason for her partner not being there which in and of itself was worrisome. He had promised to tell her what had happened this morning as soon as he got in.

So for the last hour, she had waited. The file she was making on Lucifer was opened on her desk, it being too early for most detectives to be in. She was not too keen on anyone knowing what she was doing. It was not guilt, though there was a sense of doubt which dogged her, but a need to preserve Lucifer's privacy. She had no idea what she could come across, what secrets may unintentionally spill forth from her quandaries.

After Dan's lack of an explanation the previous night, she had stayed up far later than was reasonable, writing down everything Lucifer had ever said about his family. While she knew, obviously, that his talk of Heaven and Hell was all fabrication, she reasoned there must be some truth to what he claimed about himself. People who adhered to delusions were not always lying. More so, it was like they were twisting the truth.

What she had so far was not even remotely pleasant.

Delusions aside, it was apparent to her that Lucifer's upbringing had been abnormal. His fear of touching and the way he referred to himself and his siblings as his father's soldiers made her think he had been raised by extremists. It was rare but not unheard of, parents raising their families in isolation so as to protect them from the apocalypse or alien invasion they believed to be eminent. It would explain the lack of records she could find on him at least. If that was indeed how he had been raised, it was unlikely he had been born in a hospital then or even put through a public school system. He would, for all intents and purposes, simply not exist according to the government. There would be no birth certificate, no social security number, no medical record.

Worse than that though was the thought that maybe the name Lucifer was not just some alias he had created for himself. It could be the actual name his parents had given him. And if that were true, then what scorn had he endured from his family? He would have been cast as the villain from the moment of his birth. What sort of parent would do that to their child?

She shook her head hard, warding off the dark thoughts. Speculation would not do anyone any good, least of all Lucifer himself. She had to approach this logically, using only the information that had been solidly proven. One wrong move could do more than simply destroy their partnership, it could ruin the mental barrier her partner had in place.

And more so than anything else, Chloe wanted to help him.

The pencil slipped between her fingers, clattering to the floor loudly in the mostly quiet room. Pushing her chair back, she leaned down to retrieve it. Straightening herself again, she caught sight of Dan shambling down the stairs, puffy eyed and holding his coffee protectively as if it were the only thing keeping him alive.

Judging by how tired he looked, it might have been actually.

Concerned, Chloe half rose. Despite the fact that they were separated, she still cared a great deal for Dan. Their relationship may have had its ups and downs but he was a good man who took excellent care of their daughter and had never once given her reason to doubt him. Besides, separation and divorce were two completely different things. A part of Chloe wanted, expected even, for the two of them to rectify their issues and get back together. That cold cynical part of herself, however, constantly told her she was simply beating a dead horse and worse, stringing Dan along.

Either way, he looked terrible and she did not like it.

"Hey, are you okay?" She asked as he approached her and collapsed into 'Lucifer's chair'.

"I'm great." He replied tonelessly, guzzling half his cup of coffee in one long swallow. "Why wouldn't I be?"

_Because you look like shit_, she thought but did not voice that particular opinion aloud. Gone were the days of exchanging joking insults. The strain between the two of them meant most of their conversation carried a high level of professionalism.

"You look tired." She said softly.

He sighed, setting down his cup and rubbing his face hard. "I didn't sleep too well, that's all."

"Why?" Her eyes widened. "Is this about Lucifer and what happened last night?"

He nodded, eyelids drooping. "Yeah." He stayed silent for a moment, gazing sightlessly at the floor. "After I went through the missing person reports, I found nothing pertaining to the case so I went down to the parking garage so I could head home. When I got down there, I saw Lucifer. He was arguing with someone, this huge dude."

"Arguing? What about?" Chloe was surprised. In general, it seemed as if Lucifer did not know many people very well. He had Maze sure, but she had never heard him refer to anyone as a friend or even an acquaintance. The people he slept with, she was fairly certain, did not count.

Once again, her mind brought her back to that moment in the alley, Lucifer's eyes clouding as she explained love.

"I didn't really hear much, I was too far away. But it was heated, they were practically snarling at each other like alley cats. Then out of nowhere, this guy just punched Lucifer in the jaw. I intervened before it became an all out brawl."

Someone had hit Lucifer? "Was he okay?" She asked sharply.

"I think so. I mean, he's going to have one hell of a bruise for awhile but I don't think any permanent damage was done." Dan suddenly looked around before dropping his voice. "This guy though… I wanted to arrest him but Lucifer wouldn't press any charges."

Well, that sounded like something Lucifer would do. He was a prideful man at the best of times and she could understand why he would not want to press charges for what basically amounted to a sucker punch. That did not mean she condoned it, but at least it made sense - which was rare when it came to her partner.

Dan continued. "When I asked why, he said it was just a fight between brothers."

That got Chloe attention immediately. "The guy who punched him was his own brother?"

"Yeah. At least, that's what Lucifer claimed. He said his dad wanted him to return to someplace he did not want to go and his brother was the messenger." He hesitated. "I'm worried actually. Families fight, but sending one son to physically hurt the other? That's crossing a pretty important line. And Lucifer seemed so… casual about the whole thing like this was normal or something for him. Has he…" He trailed off, finishing his coffee though his eyes remained fastened on Chloe's. "Has he ever mentioned anything that made you suspect he grew up in an abusive household?"

She wondered if the look Dan wore was how she had looked in the alley when trying to explain to Lucifer about love and sex. His brow was furrowed, coming down on worried, strained eyes. It was a strange expression for Dan, one she was not accustomed to seeing, especially when in regards to Lucifer.

"I have actually." She said slowly. Picking up her file, she handed it over. "He's said and done a few things that made me think there was something going on. I tried looking into him but there's not any information preceding five years ago."

Dan perused the file quickly, eyes growing sharper the more he read. When he set the file back down, anger was lurking in his irises. "His parents kicked him out? How old was he?"

"I don't know, he didn't say." There was no point in pretending with Dan. Letting him in felt good actually, an additional ally to help carry this burden. "I want to help him though. He's in pain, I can tell. But I think he's grown so accustomed to it that he doesn't even notice. There's this too." Carefully, she opened the bottom drawer of her desk and withdrew a photo.

It was the same one from the Paparazzi sight, the one of his scars. The photo had been enlarged so it was somewhat grainy but the effect was not lost in the slightest. It took only a moment for Dan's anger to drain away, unfiltered horror replacing it.

"Is this doctored?" He asked faintly.

She shook her head regretfully. "I wish they were. I've seen them in person and, if you can imagine, they actually look worse than that."

Dan's eyes traced the patchwork of uneven skin. "What happened to him?" he finally asked.

"He kept saying that was where his wings used to be but that can't be true. I think… I think his father did that to him. He basically said so to me."

Dan tightened his grip on the photo, the edges crinkling. When he spoke, his voice was cold and controlled. "Whatever you're planning, I want in. This is… fuck Chloe I can't believe this!"

"I don't really have a plan." She admitted. "There's so much I still don't know and it's unfair of me to continue to dig into his past like this. I think what he really needs right now is a friend."

Dan caught on. "You want me to befriend him?"

"No!" She said vehemently. "This isn't some sort of manipulation. I want you to just give him a chance and see what happens. He can be remarkably charming when the mood strikes him. I know you two got off on the wrong foot but maybe you could just try again?"

"So if I try again and we still don't get along?" He pressed.

"Then that's that. I don't want to pretend, that would be cruel."

There was something else she wanted to try but she was not going to tell Dan about it. Lucifer's aversion to touching had struck her as particularly tragic. It was human nature to try and comfort another with a hug or holding hands and she desperately wanted for him to be able to understand that. As he already trusted her, she had decided to incorporate more touching into their day to day lives. Not anything romantic or suggestive, just the same casual pats she shared with her other co workers. If she could show him that touching was okay, maybe he would begin to accept it from others.

"Detective Espinoza!" A voice called from across the bullpen and Dan jumped to his feet.

"I'll give it a shot Chloe okay?" He said before walking away to join the other detective.

She sighed in relief, a weight seeming to lift from her shoulders. Even if Dan and Lucifer could never become friends, at least they could become cordial with one another. A new lightless had attached itself to her, making the next few hours pass easily even as she awaited forensics' report.

The new information about Lucifer's family would have to wait until tonight. Right now she was on duty. This stance went well… until her partner in question showed up.

Since Dan had left, more and more detectives had arrived, the lazy quiet replaced by ringing phones and a dozen conversations. The backdrop was familiar to her, a noise she had heard nearly every day for the past eight years.

So when it dropped off unexpectedly into a tense hush, she knew immediately something was up.

That something in question was stalking down the stairs, looking positively murderous.

She gasped aloud, so did a few other people actually, as she saw Lucifer's bruised jaw. Dan had not done the injury justice. The skin, blackened and puckered, stretched from the corner of his mouth to almost his eye, escapulating his entire left cheek in dark shades of purple and red.

But not even that could distract from the reddish gleam in his eyes, lips twisted into a look she had only ever seen on rabid dogs. His stride was short and deliberate, footsteps thunderous in the sudden silence that had gripped the room. His clothes were impeccable as always but this only added to the menacing air swirling around him. A blood red shirt and pocket chief stood vibrantly against his black suit.

The other people in the room instinctively shrank away from him as if he were physically pushing them backwards. One officer, a young man who had only been on the force for a few months, dropped his coffee cup. The hot liquid splattered his front and dripped to the floor, forming a dark puddle. The muted thump of the styrofoam cup hitting the tile drew Lucifer's predatory gaze, his head snapping to the side.

The officer froze under the heat of those brown eyes, the gentle warmth they usually danced with replaced by a roaring inferno. Slowly, Lucifer approached him, contemptuous gaze flickering to the man's pants, which were faintly steaming with hot coffee, to the mess on the floor.

"Are you always so cloddish?" He asked, towering over the younger man.

The officer's eyes darted around. "Er…" His voice was stuck, unable to push back the massive lump lodged in his throat.

Lucifer snorted and reaching for his chest, plucking out his pocket chief. "Clean yourself up. You look like you've just pissed yourself."

And just like that, the spell was broken. Phones began ringing again as sound returned. Chloe had not even noticed it had vanished in the first place. The menacing air was still there but subdued. Where before it had encompassed the room, tendrils covering everything with its heavy presence, it had now been reduced to just her partner himself.

But the look of barely contained fury had yet to dissipate from Lucifer. He did not take his usual seat by her desk but instead stood before it, hands clasped behind his back. From up close, his bruise looked even worse, not even his stubble able to hide it.

Chloe had a thousand questions - and a million more brewing - but beat them back viciously. "Hey, are you okay? That looks painful."

To her dismay, her words only incited a laugh from Lucifer. His mouth was lopsided, the right half of his lips peeking open while the left side remained firmly closed, either too swollen or too painful to move. He looked like Two-Face from Batman, sans the burn marks.

"I'm fine Detective. Splendid in fact." There was something accusatory lurking in his voice, a harsh edge that he had never addressed her with before.

Warning bells were screaming in her head.

"I thought you didn't lie. That bruise doesn't look like 'fine'." It was a stupid thing to do, bring up the lying thing, but she was seriously worried now, even more than when she had shot him.

His crooked smirk fell away, replaced by an equally skewed scowl. "I don't." He insisted. "And I thought you didn't either."

Huh?

"What are you talking about? When did I lie?" She asked, baffled.

"Last night." He was fidgeting again, unable to stay still.

She felt she was staring down a caged lion, every cell in his body yearned for one thing but he held himself back, forced himself to not pace or fumble with his cufflinks.

"Last night? When did I lie? All we talked about was love and… and sex."

And great, now she was getting odd looks from her coworkers.

Her apparent ignorance was doing nothing to soothe his anger. If anything, she was fanning it into something even more dangerous. It was easy for her to forget what Lucifer had done to Jimmy Barners, how he could pick people up with only one hand and not even strain himself.

"You said I needed to add love to sex to get that deeper connection thing!" He accused, not even bothering to keep his voice down.

Now everyone was staring.

"Lucifer, can we talk about this somewhere else?" She almost begged, certain she had just seen the blinds covering the lieutenant's office twitch.

He bristled. "Absolutely not!"

It occurred to her then, amongst her own embarrassment, that Lucifer was someone who almost always got his way. That didn't quite add up with her theory - a spoiled and abused kid?

Her lapse in attention costed her dearly as Lucifer, already on edge, interpreted her silence as approval for him to continue speaking. "I tried adding the love thing! I did everything right, went slow just like on television. But that repulsive woman ruined it. She plowed right along like a bloody animal." He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging several chunks from their product prison. "It felt awful. Why did you do that?" His tone finally lowered, misery lacing every word. "Why did you ruin sex for me?"

From any other person, those words would be comical. But Chloe wasn't laughing. Actually, she doubted she would ever laugh again. A terrible ache had taken residence in her gut, heavy as iron and pressing against her stomach, her lungs. Breathing was hard. Swallowing? Near impossible.

She was not aware she was reaching out, body on autopilot. She also failed to notice when her hand wrapped firmly around Lucifer's upper arm. He jerked at the contact but she did not release him. Instead, she led him towards the elevators.

He resisted at first, digging those expensive heels into the ground. "Detective! Whatever has gotten into you?"

But she ignored his complaining, ignored everything but the feel of lean muscle under her hand. It was all that was grounding her.

The trip to her car was uneventful, aside from the odd looks they kept receiving. Lucifer was still going on and on but she ignored him. When she opened the passenger door of her car for him however, he finally lost his patience.

With a strength far greater than she knew, he wrenched himself free of her. He took a mighty step back, eyeing her hauntily.

"What are you doing?" He demanded.

"We're going to see your therapist." The words were so flat, so devoid of anything resembling emotion that she could not believe they had come from her.

"Dr. Martin? Why?"

His cluelessness was intensifying her ache. She felt like she was going to throw up. Or cry. Or something. Anything.

"Because you need help." Her emotions were boiling, threatening to spill over.

He glared. "I don't need help."

And just like that her fragile state imploded.

"You don't need help?" She screamed. "You just admitted to thinking going slowly with sex equated to love! You allowed someone to use you even though you wanted nothing to do with her. Lucifer, love doesn't just happen. You don't just wake up one day hopelessly adoring someone else. It takes time, intimacy. Forcing it, that doesn't work."

He was completely still as she yelled, back ramrod straight.

"So you're going to get in my car and we're going to see Dr. Martin because this… I can't let this happen. I can't let you be used by others because you don't understand."

Lunging forward, she grabbed him again, practically dragging his lanky frame to the passenger side and shoving him in. He did not resist, not even when his knee collided with the dashboard.

Chloe got into the driver's side and took off. She held the steering wheel so hard that she was afraid bone would split the skin of her knuckles and erupt. Every few seconds, she glanced over to Lucifer.

He was still so quiet and, as she began to calm some, the gravity of what had just transpired hit her full force. Her accusations, Lucifer had not even denied them. He had allowed himself to be manhandled by her. He, the man who could not even stand to be hugged, had made no comment as she had pushed him into the car like it was a kidnapping.

Sat as he was, looking straight ahead, hands folded neatly in his lap, he looked entirely normal - or as close to normal as he ever got. His expression was completely blank, not so much as a flicker of what he was feeling gracing his features.

She sighed to herself, running a hand through her head and yanking out her ponytail. "Lucifer, I'm sorry I yelled. But I'm worried about you. What you're describing, it's not right. You need help. You know that right? I mean, you already have a therapist." This drive was turning out eerily similar to when she had first brought him home after having shot him. "I'm sorry if I overstepped but you're my friend-"

He twisted sharply in his seat at that, brow furrowing. "Repeat that."

"You're my friend." She said again.

They were at a red light and she looked over to him. Something odd was happening. He looked completely baffled by her admission but his lips were curled into a faint smile, one she was not sure he was even aware of.

"Friend?" He echoed.

God, he sounded too damn hopeful.

"Of course, what else did you think we were? I invited to my house, let you speak to Trixie."

For a moment, his face shone brilliantly, teeth flashing despite the bruise. Then the joy disappeared.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly.

"What for?" The light changed and she was forced to look back at the road.

"For upsetting you. Again."

"You have no reason to apologize. This isn't your fault."

"It's not?" There was vulnerability there.

She suddenly wondered how many times he had taken the blame, how many times he had been forced to live up to his namesake.

"Not at all. But I still want you to speak to your therapist."

She wondered why he did not argue with her, as he so often did about everything else. But he was different when he was around her. She had first noticed it after shooting him but the behavior had started long before that.

At Lux, he lived up to his club owner reputation, all seductive and exotic. At the police station, he was charming and easy to get along with. But with her, he was softer somehow, the hard edges of his personality filtering into something more genuine.

She sincerely hoped this softer side was the true him and that he could learn to embrace it around everyone. It was a shame for such, dare she say, gentleness, to not be shared with the world.

When they arrived at the doctor's office, no further words had been shared between them. Chloe was thankful for that. No talking meant she could tune out, meant she did not have to think about what he had just admitted to.

Dr. Martin's office was located in the very back of the building, the sun shining through the waiting room windows. Lucifer approached the door, clearly intending to just barge in but Chloe got there first, squeezing past him and knocking.

"Come in."

Opening the door, Chloe stepped in, Lucifer so close behind her he was stepping on her heels.

Dr. Martin was at her desk, a half finished salad sitting before her. "Lucifer? Detective Decker?" She asked, setting down her fork. "Can I help you?" Her eyes found the bruise. "Are you okay?" She asked, alarmed.

"Fine Doctor. I do wish everyone would stop asking. It's not terminal." He waved her concern aside.

Chloe was not sure how this was supposed to go. Shifting uneasily, she offered an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry to interrupt your lunch hour but… well, I wanted to speak to you about…" She looked helplessly between the Doctor and Lucifer.

Linda caught on immediately. Standing, she brushed her dress clean. "Lucifer, why don't you wait outside for a moment?"

Predictably, Lucifer immediately protested. "Detective, you said you wanted me to speak with the Doctor."

"Please? It's just for a second okay?"

Whether it was because she asked so nicely or some other reason known only to him, Lucifer actually obeyed. He left the room in an irritated huff but nonetheless, he listened.

The moment the door clicked shut, Chloe collapsed onto the couch. "I am sorry about showing up unannounced."

"It's quite alright Detective. At least you knock. Lucifer just kind of walks in."

"Lucifer's the reason I'm here actually. I'm really worried about him and something he said today…"

Linda inclined her head. "I'm assuming this is about that bruise?"

Chloe smiled weakly. "I wish." Trying to keep her voice smooth, she continued. "Last night we were at a crime scene and Lucifer was bemoaning how slow everything was going. He said he there had been a woman at Lux who he was interested in and he had given that up for the case. I was kind of surprised because I know he hates touching of any kind. He doesn't even allow hugs or brushing hands or anything. So I asked him why he disliked hugs so much but not sex and…" Was it getting hot in here or was it just her? "And he said that hugs are far more intimate than sex. That sex is meaningless."

Linda twitched at that but did not interrupt, though it was clear from her frown that she wanted to.

"I asked him if he had ever slept with someone he cared about because… I mean he's over thirty. Of course he's had some sort of real relationship. But he said he hadn't and then he wanted to know if intimate connections made sex better and how to get that. When I said it was love, he just sort of… looked disappointed.

"I put the conversation from my mind because we were working a case and that needed my focus. But earlier today, he showed up to the precinct furious. He started going off about how he had tried to do the 'love' thing last night by going slow like he saw on television." She could not continue.

Linda started. "He slept with a total stranger and thought that speed equalled intimacy?"

"He didn't even want to sleep with her. He called her repulsive and stuff." A lone tear escaped and she wiped it away furiously. "She used him and I don't think he gets that. He just wanted to… I don't know… feel something I guess."

There was silence for a long moment, both women horrified by the revelation that drove down the temperature of the room by a good ten degrees.

Linda was the one who finally broke it, rising to her feet and opening the door. "Lucifer you can come in now."

Chloe rose to leave, sniffling but Linda shook her head and pointed back to the couch. She sat down again, scooting to one side so Lucifer would have room as well.

He appeared, looking no less annoyed than before, though his eyes had finally returned to their softer brown. From where she sat, she could not see the pattern of black and purple on his face, just the jump of muscles in his jaw as he grinded his teeth.

He took the seat beside her, the entire couch bouncing. Crossing one leg over the other, he gaze Chloe a shrewd look. She realized what it must have looked like, her speaking with Dr. Martin while he was sent outside.

"Lucifer," Linda had returned to her own seat, the picture of poise. "Chloe has shared a few things with me and I want to know how you feel about them."

"Does she have to be here?" He asked curtly.

Chloe sucked in a breath, ignoring the sting of his words. Of course he did not want her here. As much as he liked to portray himself as open, she knew he liked privacy. She recalled that photo of him playing the piano, oblivious to the world as he sheltered in something that held meaning only to himself.

"I want her here." Linda said carefully. "Because I fear that you do not understand what happened last night."

"Last night?" He smiled, though it was that dangerous look he used on the criminals they apprehended. "What about last night did I not understand? I suppose you two would know more, seeing as you were there and everything." Sarcasm was all but dripping from his mouth.

"Don't deflect, not now." Linda urged. "This is serious."

"What could possibly be so serious about a one night stand? The very nature of such a thing is casual."

"Lucifer, what is love?" Linda asked loudly.

Silence.

His mouth opened but no words came out. An uncertain look, one that made Chloe's stomach drop, graced his features.

"Bit of an idealistic question don't you think?" He said. "You humans are always trying to define love but there's never really been a tangible answer has there?"

Linda relented. "True I suppose. What I should have asked was, what is love to you?"

In spite of herself, Chloe had a hundred answers to that simple question. Love was the way Trixie hugged her at night after a nightmare. The way her father had always been proud of her acting career. How her mother, for all her childish behavior, would sit by her side every time she was injured on the job.

It was so easy to answer.

So why wasn't Lucifer saying anything yet?

"Doctor, I…" He looked pained, brow furrowed. "I… don't know."

Chloe could be silent a moment longer. "Lucifer, name one good memory you had with your family."

He turned towards her, gaze dropping. "I don't think I have one. Maybe a long time ago, before Dad started with his projects, but I can no longer recall that." He was upset, as if it had finally dawned on him just how bad this situation really was.

"A friend perhaps?" Linda supplied, eyes unusually bright behind her glasses.

His gaze cleared in an instant. "Oh, earlier in the ride here, Chloe said I was her friend." He sat back impressively, as if some great breakthrough had been made.

The two women did not follow his logic.

"And?" Linda ventured, gesturing for him to continue.

He sighed dramatically. "That's my good memory, the Detective saying I was a friend. No one's ever said that to me before."

She could not stand this, not one moment longer. Abruptly, she got to her feet, nearly falling in her haste. Ignoring Lucifer's startled look and Linda's understanding nod, she bolted from the room.

It hurt too much. Everything.

Because she finally understood why Lucifer was the way he was. Why he mocked people like Dan who were well liked and could not understand why Trixie liked him.

Abandoned wasn't the right word to describe him.

He was the Christmas present that never even made it to the tree, forgotten in the attic for years. Collecting dust until someone found him. They would open it up and for a moment, he would be cared for or loved. But then they would toss him aside, just a passing fancy. Broken. Lost.

She made it outside just before the lump in her stomach broke free and she vomited into the bush next to the front door. Hunched over, hands on her knees, she allowed her tears to fall unimpeded.


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N - More angst but there's some fluff in there too. The next few chapters deal more heavily with Chloe's case and I apologize in advance for inconsistencies with the law. I live on the complete opposite side of the country from California and many of their laws/regulations differ from those here._

_I want to thank Sapphire's Ink who read the first half of this chapter and gave me some great advice. This version is definitely superior thanks to her._

_A special thank you as well to LillyHalliwell, ShelbyT, Cathy Sullins, Dobby and Padfoot, blueexorcist, Laetitia-chan, OldGirl-NoraArlani, and the-darker-side-of-things for their reviews and everyone else who favorites or follows._

**Chapter Five - I Should Be**

"That's my good memory, the Detective saying I was a friend. No one's ever said that to me before."

Sometimes, though the feeling was becoming increasingly persistent the longer he remained on Earth, he wished he knew why he always seemed to say the wrong things. A moment ago, he had been rather proud of himself. Proud for managing to answer the doctor's convoluted question. Proud for being able to say he was friends with the Detective. Proud that he, Lucifer Morningstar, had finally achieved some sort of breakthrough.

But now everything was buggered.

Linda was quiet, though a shadow of sadness lurked behind her mask.

Chloe was… well she was simply gone.

It was a devastating blow, watching her bolt from the room as if he had drawn out a knife and threatened her with it. Every breath hurt his chest. A tight band had formed around him, his lungs fighting against the constricting force which grew with every passing second.

Linda was saying something, her lips were moving at least, but he tuned her out. Gaze locked on the door, he waited for Chloe to come back.

Because of course she would. After everything they had gone through in the past two months, she would never just abandon him.

Right?

The clock marked the time, the second hand ticking a death march.

He desperately wanted to chase after Chloe but he was rooted to the spot, confusion and hurt leaving him feeling detached from his own body. He could not understand her reaction to his words. Only an hour ago she had said they were friends. He had merely repeated her words. Had that been wrong?

He drooped suddenly, spine curling as he slouched forwards.

Of course Chloe would want to hide the fact they were friends. What must it look like? Professional, respectful Chloe Decker friends with the eccentric club owner who could not keep it in his pants?

He knew what other people thought of him, even if he did not agree with their assessments. And it was not as if those opinions bothered him any. He was the Devil after all. But Chloe thought he was delusional. Who would want to be associated with someone like him? His own family loathed him so much, he had not seen most of them since he had been cast out. And those "special" few who had bothered to visit his fiery domain. Well… he was already damned so who cared if he broke a few angelic noses?

"Lucifer…"

The doctor's voice broke him from his musings and he shook his head, banishing the last few dismal thoughts to somewhere deep inside where they could fester for a few millennia.

"It appears I have misspoken again." He said dryly, schooling himself back into nonchalance.

Running after Chloe would do him no good right now, especially because it was obvious she wanted nothing to do with him. The mere mention of their friendship had sent her reeling, imagine if he asked for her to take him back to the precinct? Every fiber of his being was fighting against reason though, desperate to find her.

Wait, did that mean their friendship was over then? That must be some bloody record. How long had it been since she had said it? An hour? Thirty minutes?

The glacier in his chest increased tenfold.

"Lucifer!" Linda's voice was sharper.

"There's no need to shout." He straightened himself, crossing one leg over the other, forcibly restraining his fidgeting.

Linda looked very much as if she were distressed. Her entire body was tensed, hands clasped together tightly. "I don't have enough time to talk about everything that just happened so I'm just going to cover what I feel is most pressing." She took a massive breath. "Did you or did you not want to have sex with that woman last night."

"Not in the slightest. She was a dreadful sort, so caught up in her own pleasure, she hardly took notice of anything else." He said dismissively. "Now that that's out of the way, could you explain why the Detective was so-"

Linda cut him off. "So why did you sleep with her then?" She leaned forwards, eyes trained on him from across the table.

He sighed in irritation. It seemed he would not get his own questions answered unless he played along. "I was trying something. Didn't work. Won't do it again. At least my reputation did not suffer. I can assure you, she left plenty satisfied."

"You were trying to create intimacy."

"The Detective referred to it as a 'deeper connection'."

"And how did you think you would create such a connection?" At some point a notebook had appeared, her hand moving quickly as she scribbled notes.

This was feeling suspiciously like a trap. And he should know. How many slippery souls had ended up in Hell? They would spew any lie, make any deal, to be free of their self inflicted torture.

Lying…

Chloe had said they were friends but then acted appalled when it was mentioned to another. Had it all just been a lie? She had been desperate to get some sort of reaction out of him on the drive over, perhaps calling them friends had just been a way to distract him.

The corners of his eyes prickled in a way he had not experienced since being banished from Heaven. He sucked in a noisy breath through his nose, which only made the prickling worse.

He was not going to cry. Absolutely, positively would not allow a single tear escape. He was the Devil. The Lord of Hell. He had not cried when his Father had labeled him a disappointment or when his sibling ridiculed him. Those lonely nights spent in hellfire had never known his tears. Not even Maze, close as she was, had seen so much as a quivering lip when the despair had been so consuming, he would torture just to feel something other than the terrifying loneliness.

Shoving a hand in his pocket, he pressed his fingernails as hard as he could into his palm. Either Chloe was still close by, unlikely, or his self loathing issues were getting out of hand because that was definitely blood oozing out of the new cuts. He had intended only to distract himself but now…

He pressed harder, the surface under his fingertips becoming slippery. The faint aroma of copper hit his tongue but he knew he must be imagining it. Still, the scent was one he knew well, comforting in its familiarity.

Oblivious to his internal struggles, Linda waited for an answer to her question.

"I used the best frame of reference at my disposal." He spoke carefully, watching for even the slightest sign he was being cornered.

But Linda only asked a question. "What reference?"

"Television." He almost pulled his hand out of his pocket to readjust his cuff links but remembered himself at the last second. "In those rubbish romance movies Maze hates, the protagonists always have this grand union, even if prior to that moment they disliked one another. I was merely attempting to follow that formula. I'd assumed, incorrectly I might add, which is rare by the way, that everything would simply slide into place. I was prepared to give into an entire evening of worship-like behavior but that woman had obviously not seen the same movies as I because she did not understand a single thing."

Every time he re-told the sorry tale he felt his patience crumble a little more. It also brought that same wave of worthlessness that had dogged him incessantly since last night. Chloe's short lived friendship had temporarily warded away the feeling but now it was back full-force, a terrible numbness settling throughout him. His limbs felt heavy, extremities tingle almost like pins and needles.

"Romances are often not accurate portrayal of relationships. They are designed a bit like fairy tales, offering ideals which are just not possible to achieve in real life." Linda said softly. "That being said, you do understand that your unwillingness to participate in last night's events is worrisome right?"

He gestured impatiently with one arm. "What does it matter?" He asked hotly. "I don't fornicate with people because I'm selfless. I use them just as they use me. It's just a transaction, a deal. And I make it more pleasurable by using what they desire, but it's temporary."

The prickling in his eyes was still there. It felt to be growing actually, his vision becoming a little blurred. Why hadn't it stopped yet?

He pressed as hard as he could in his palm, manicured nails the perfect shape to tear his skin ragged.

"But you were not willing to follow through last night and that makes all the difference." Linda argued.

"I didn't say no, did I? I was what she desired so I graciously allowed her to fulfill her wish. No harm, no foul." The room was starting to feel small.

"Would you ever do that? Ever sleep with someone who did not want to?"

He snorted, thinking of Chloe who was probably already back at the station by now. At the mere thought of the Detective, the prickling gave way to a hot feeling as a tear tried to escape. He blinked rapidly but the salty liquid would not be deterred. It clung to his lashes, a sob threatening to break from behind clenched teeth. His nose no longer worked, each inhale only eliciting a wet sniffling sound.

"Never." He hissed. "I would never take advantage of someone!"

Linda dipped her head at his defensive tone. "Why not?"

"Consent boils down to free will. And I would never take a choice like that from someone. Never. That would be… well, wrong." So much of his concentration was occupied by his rapidly receding self control that he was having difficulty stringing his thoughts together coherently.

"Yes, it is wrong. Just like how you were treated last night was wrong. Lucifer, you didn't want to sleep with that woman yet instead of speaking up, you allowed her to use you." She sighed, setting aside the notebook and staring him down. "I'm very worried about what that means. About how you view yourself."

"How I view myself?" He said softly. A lone tear finally escaped, leaving a ticklish trail in its wake as it rolled down his face before setting in the hollow created by his nostril. It sat there, fat and heavy against his skin.

"Hey." Linda said softly, reaching for the tissue box beside her.

Inhaling shakily, he refused to take the offered tissue, clutching desperately to his last thread of dignity.

"Lucifer, I know this is hard but I'm here for you. We're going to work through this together alright?" She offered a small smile, setting the tissue on the table in case he still wanted it.

He should leave. There was no fixing this 'issue' of his. After all, there was nothing to fix. He had made an error and that was that. He wasn't a victim or weak, just misguided. And now that he knew better, it would never happen again.

The act of standing, however, was beyond him at the moment. All he could picture was Chloe running. He had been so naive, believing her when she said they were friends. The Devil didn't have friends, only subjects he ruled over.

But for a brief half an hour he believed her lie and it had felt exquisite. After eons of tumbling in an avalanche of humanity's and his family's hatred of him, she had been a lifeline. For a moment, his head had finally broken the surface. If she believed in him, maybe he could believe in himself too…

"Why doesn't she want to be my friend?" He choked out.

The tears fell unhindered, shaky breath dispelling into sobs which forced him to shake. His uninjured hand flew to his face, trying to hide the evidence of his breakdown.

He was pathetic. What a stupid, childish question. He was stronger than this! Stronger than flimsy bonds of love or affection. Yet here he was, drowning again because some human had lied. Maze would laugh if she could see him now, Heaven's greatest warrior reduced to a weeping mess.

Linda was still in the room. He was faintly aware of her, like a bug in his peripherals. She had not moved from her seat at his obvious sign of distress and he was not entirely sure whether or not to be relieved she was keeping professional and not approaching him.

The sobs stopped long before the tears did. When he eventually chanced pulling his hand from his face, his eyes and nose ached. His mouth tasted weird and his throat felt swollen. The combination felt even worse than before, the new addition of exhaustion doing absolutely nothing to better it.

"Who doesn't want to be your friend?" Linda asked gently, as if he had not spent the last ten minutes crying.

He knew she was supposed to act like this but he could not help the feeling of resent bubbling in him. This was the first time he had cried since being sent to rule Hell. For him, the reaction held deep meaning. But she was treating the episode as if it were normal.

Frustrated, he rubbed hard at his face. His skin was raw from the tears, the friction irritated it further.

"Chloe." He said at last.

It was not the answer Linda was expecting. "What do you mean?"

Did he really have to explain? "The moment I said we were friends, she all but flew from the room. I gather that means she lied about the whole bloody thing." He was falling back on anger, a safer emotion.

"Lucifer, I think you misunderstood." She said with a newfound wariness. "Chloe was extremely distressed by your response to my question about your happiest moment."

"Why would she find it distressing? Unless, of course, she didn't want anyone to know. She must have been ashamed of even pretending to be friends with dear old delusional me." His bitterness tainted the entire room.

"Chloe was hurt because someone hurt you." Linda said.

Well that sounded like absolute rubbish. How could his interactions with others hurt the Detective?

It was all too much. The crying, the hurt, the confusion. He needed to leave. Now.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet. "It appears your lunch break is nearly over. How about we pick this up never?"

She gaped at him as he stalked towards the door. "Lucifer wait!"

He paused. "Oh right. Payment. Well, forgive me for not being in a charitable mood today. But from what you've said about Sadie using me, you are doing the same." Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled out his entire billfold and tossed it haphazardly onto the table. "That should cover any inconveniences my presence has brought you."

He strode out of the room before Linda could get in a word edgewise. The waiting room held a couple of people, all of whom looked up in alarm as he barreled through like a tornado. He paid them no mind, striding through the building as if he owned it.

When he reached the exit, he shouldered the door open so hard it flew open and smacked the brick exterior. The stifling humidity of mid-day hit him full force. His sour mood dipped even further at the sweltering heat. It may not have been as hot as Hell but it was still mightily unpleasant all the same.

He was so bothered by the repressive heat, it took a moment for him to register the bitter scent of bile. The smell was not foreign, it was common enough in Hell - he had found it to be particularly effective with germaphobes - but the humidity only worsened the smell into something that turned his stomach. Feeling queasy, he found the source to be the bush not ten feet from the main entrance.

And crouched miserably beside it was Chloe.

Her head had been resting on her knees but at the sound of the door flying open, her head jerked up. She did not look well, skin a bit pale and eyes dull. They brightened considerably when she saw him however.

"Lucifer! How did everything go?" She scrambled to her feet and brushed herself off.

He had every intention of walking away. Lying was something he personally counted as a cardinal sin and his raw hurt was still too fresh deal with. But it was obvious Chloe was the one who had thrown up and that meant…

"You were sick?" He asked, horrified.

People had run from him before, though generally that was after he had shown his Devil face. But to actually vomit… How terrible was just pretending to be his friend if it made someone physically ill?

"Oh, yeah. But I feel better now. It was just - Hey! Where are you going?" She jumped as he walked past her, longer stride carrying him towards the parking lot.

"Leaving." He said shortly, not sure why he was still responding.

Chloe was almost running to keep up with him. "What do you mean 'leaving'? What the hell happened in there?"

"Oh I just realized a few things Detective. It's dreadfully ironic actually, the so called Prince of Lies unable to see when he is being lied to. Dad's probably having a real laugh over that one."

"Who lied?" Chloe asked. When he still did not stop, she ran around to cut him off, forcing him to pull up short or trample her. "Lucifer, stop! What's going on? I can't help if you don't talk to me."

"Well seeing as you're the problem, I can't imagine speaking with you would fix anything." He knew he was hurting her but in his current state, lashing out was all he could do.

"I don't understand." She said, hands held out before her uncertainly as if she meant to grab him. "Is this about before at the precinct? Because I thought we went over that already."

"No Detective. This is about how you lied about us being friends!" He had not meant to shout but self control seemed to be a bit of an issue for him today.

Chloe backed up like he had hit her. "I didn't lie!" She protested. "Why would you ever think that?"

"Because it makes sense! First you want a reaction out of me on the drive here and then the moment I say it to someone else, you escape. I guess I should have known better. You refuse to believe who I am and keep saying I'm delusional. Why did you even invite me to dinner? Just to alleviate your own guilt I presume. You said as much remember?"

"Lucifer please listen to me." She sounded almost desperate. "I did not lie okay? I left because I was upset."

"What was there to be upset about? I had just admitted that the happiest moment of my existence was your admission of friendship. You should have been honored."

"But that's just it! Your happiest memory shouldn't be your colleague saying you're friends. It should be falling in love or the first kiss you shared with someone special. It should be your parents telling you how proud they are of you or doing something with your siblings."

"But I haven't experienced any of those." He snapped.

She was listing these things so naturally, as if everyone experienced them. What did that mean then, if he could not even say he had shared so much as an intimate kiss?

"Surely you must've-" Chloe began but he cut across her sharply.

"My parents were never proud of me. I was their biggest disappointment, an eyesore. My siblings shared the same beliefs. And we've gone over this already, I've never had an intimate relationship with someone else. So yes, my happiest memory was you considering me a friend… or it was at least."

"We _are_ friends." She crossed her arms. "I wasn't upset that you told Dr. Martin, I was upset because no one else had ever once said it to you."

"Don't feel badly, I certainly don't."

"I will feel how ever I want to." That defiant spark was back. "Our very first case, you saved my life. Remember? I was practically a stranger yet you risked your own life. And every morning, the bullet wound in my shoulder hurts and I think back to that moment. I was so sure I was going to die. And what did you say to me?"

He could recall, with perfect clarity, every second of that nightmare. "I won't let you." It came out in a near whisper.

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. "And you didn't." Slowly, she lowered her hands back to her side. "So yeah, I was upset I was your happiest moment. Because you deserve a thousand happy memories, Lucifer."

He had several arguments against what she had just said. Technically, he had not risked his life to save her. At the time he had been immortal. The whole vulnerability to stabby things had not come into effect until several weeks later. He understood how she must have seen it though and the fiery tongues of his anger began to smother.

"So… we are friends?" He loathed how his voice shook lightly but he needed to hear her say it again.

"Of course we are. I'm sorry you ever doubted that."

Oh he still had doubts. Years of living with the scum of humanity and demons incapable of remorse had taught him to never take anyone at face value. He was dreading the inevitable moment when the Detective realized who he really was and ran away again. It may not happen for weeks or even years but he knew one day she would finally believe that he was the Devil.

And that day was liable to kill him because he knew what her reaction would be - what everyone's reaction always was.

"Are you okay with going back to the precinct? We still have a case. If you want to go home instead, I understand."

He shifted uncomfortably. Chloe had abandoned work to help him. Her actions, at the least, would get her reprimanded. Yet she had done it anyway.

"I'll return to the precinct with you if that's alright." He said, scratching at the base of his neck.

His sudden onset of discomfort did not go unnoticed by Chloe but she did not acknowledge it, instead leading the way through the parking lot to her cruiser. He followed a half step behind, a guardian shadow.

The ride back to work was mostly silent. Chloe mentioned a few things regarding the case but did not encourage an actual discussion, though her gaze would dart occasionally to the passenger seat. He could see her reflection in the windshield. See how every so often worried blue eyes would flicker to him before re-aligning with the road again.

He was not sure whether or not to be thankful for the silence. On one hand, he was tired of discussing anything even remotely personal. But quiet also meant there was nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

Exhaling heavily though his nose, he let his forehead drop onto the window. Closing his eyes, he focused on the vibrations which ran through the thin sheet of glass. He could every minute crack they hit, every sprawling pothole.

Once, Earth had felt this small to him. In the Silver City, earthquakes and erupting volcanoes were no more powerful than the flapping of a moth's wings. He could remember the day of the 2004 Indian Ocean Tsunami, though at the time he had had no idea of the date. Over a hundred thousand unexpected souls had flooded Hell, the backups and delays caused lasting for days. That had also marked Azrael's first visit to Hell. His sister had been nearly overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of souls entering into the afterlife. The event had changed the course of history on Earth but he had felt none of it from his Hellish throne. Not the rumble of the ground. Or the roaring of the ocean's massive wave.

When he felt the car pull to a stop, he opened his eyes, squinting. They were in the lower level of the precinct parking garage but he could not recall the latter half of the drive. Had he dozed off?

"Are you sure you want to work?" Chloe asked, shutting off the car.

He nodded, attempting to stretch in the small space. His frame was too large to allow it, knees knocking against the dashboard as the top of his swept back hair brushed the ceiling. Opening the door, he climbed out stiffly and gave in to a full bodied stretch.

On his tiptoes, with hands extended straight above him, he could nearly touch the sad fluorescent lights hanging from the ceiling. A massive yawn worked its way up his throat and he gave into it, wincing as his bruised face protested.

Chloe watched him, bemused. "You're like a big cat."

He huffed. "I loath cats. They're pretentious nasty little creatures with an inflated sense of self."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Like I said, you're a big cat."

Though he rolled his eyes, Lucifer was quite pleased with the banter. Too much time had been wasted on unpleasantness today. Tonight, Lux would have one of their all night parties. He would have to call Maze and have her prepare everything. He had not thrown one of these over the top events since starting to work with the Detective. It hadn't been a matter of time or money, simply his attention had been redirected elsewhere.

But right now spending an evening drinking and playing the piano in a crowded room of desire sounded perfect to him. He might even grant a favor or two if the mood struck him.

The bullpen was roaring with life when they returned. Noon was peak activity time. Detectives who had gone out in the morning were just now returning and sharing news with those who were conducting interviews and such for the afternoon. Despite all the commotion, a calmness prevailed.

Lucifer would have preferred to watch everyone go about their business for a bit but Chloe was already plowing towards her desk, eager to see if forensics had left her their report yet. He followed at a slower pace, drifting slightly off course when he caught sight of a slender backside housed in a pencil skirt.

Despite the failure of last night, he did not intend to abstain from sex. That would be ridiculous. Rather, he would become a tad more selective with whom he spent his nights with.

And mornings.

And evenings actually.

Hmm, perhaps it was a good think he was going to continue his current promiscuous patterns. If not, he would have nothing to fill his day with. And he was not interested in that at all. Part of what had driven him out of Hell was boredom.

Pencil Skirt disappeared down the hall that led to evidence and he regretfully gave up his hunt for the time being. The evidence locker was one of his least favorite places in the precinct. Confined, dark, and windowless, the parallels were too close to Hell for his liking. He made a mental note to figure out who the woman was before the day was over. To truly rid himself of Sadie and all the confusing feelings she had brought him, he needed one good night of debauchery. He just hoped Maze would not want her too - the last fight they'd had over a partner had ended with the television set flying over the balcony railing to the street below.

Sauntering back to Chloe's desk, he was surprised to see Lieutenant Olivia Monroe engaged in conversation with the Detective. Despite spending the better part of the last two months in or around the precinct, he had never spoken with the Lieutenant beyond the occasional greeting in the morning. There was a no nonsense air about her that, while good for the job, meant she was most likely boring.

And Lucifer Morningstar was anything but.

"Hello." He said slyly, coming up to stand beside the Lieutenant.

"Mr. Morningstar." She greeted. "I was just speaking with Detective Decker about where you two dissapeared off to. Forensics had to leave their report with me because you weren't around and they thought the matter to be pressing."

There was probably an accusation lurking somewhere in there but he glossed over it.

"I apologize Lieutenant." Chloe said, inclining her head almost shamefully. "Personal matters should not have interfered with our work."

Monroe nodded. "Which reminds me," She turned her hawkish gaze to Lucifer. "Mr. Morningstar, what was that outburst this morning about?"

Chloe had become still, eyes switching between the two people standing before her.

Lucifer shrugged, uncowed. "It was merely a moment of over reaction I assure you."

"Yes well, next time overreact quieter please? I think they heard you across the street." The corners of Monroe's lips twitched. "As for the case, we have a bit of a dilemma."

"Over what?" Chloe asked, slumping in relief now that talk had returned to work.

"The victim was Anthony Stone, twenty-six. According to preliminary findings, he had enough phenobarbital in his system to put a mountain lion in a coma."

"Isn't that a drug to treat seizures?" Chloe asked.

Lucifer answered. "Amongst other things. It's a barbiturate and gives quite an interesting high. Not as smooth as majunana but useful in a pinch."

Chloe cleared her throat pointedly. "Which you would know from reading all those medical books in your library."

His brow furrowed in confusion. "Certainly not! Why just last week Mazikeen and I - OW!" He exclaimed as something pointy kicked him viciously in the shin from under the desk. Bending down to rub the spot, he met Chloe's furious look. "Yes, from the medical books. Me and Mazikeen read them to one another every night before bed." He snapped, checking his pant leg for any possible residue left from her shoe.

The Lieutenant looked between them, torn between concern and exasperation. "Regardless of where Mr. Morningstar gets his knowledge, we could be looking at an overdose. The toxicology report will not be in for awhile. I'm afraid however, that Narcotics will use this information to take over the case."

"It should stay with Homicide!" Chloe picked up a pencil and began drumming it impatiently against the desktop.. "The guy was shot in the back of the head with a gun. That's what killed him, not a drug overdose."

Lucifer stopped rubbing his shin as a thought struck him. "Oh wait. Anthony Stone… would his father by any chance be Robert Stone, the pharmacist?" Once again, his uncanny knowledge earned him weird looks but he ignored these and forged on. "The son of a pharmacist overusing a prescription drug? No wonder Narcotics is interested."

"What's Narcotics' angle?"

Monroe sighed heavily. "They believe that either Robert Stone is using his pharmaceutical company to illegally sell drugs or his son was doing so. It's a stretch and there is absolutely no evidence as of yet that points to drug distribution but the fact remains that Anthony Stone's stomach was filled with a drug he did not have a prescription for and a family member had direct access to said narcotic."

"How did you find that out so quickly? I thought we just made an ID." Chloe set down the pencil and began to rifle through the file, skimming quickly to catch up.

"I personally looked into it when I realized you were not at the precinct." The accusation was there again.

Lucifer bristled at Monroe's tone. She could imply all she wanted that he was being unprofessional, what did he care? But he would not allow the same to be surmised of his Detective.

"Yes. We've already established that we made a blunder and the Detective has already said it will not happen again." He offered a cold smile.

Monroe stood her ground, not looking particularly impressed. "Apologies are all well and good but action speaks louder." She turned back to Chloe. "See that it does not happen again."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Chloe shot Lucifer a look, warning him to drop it.

He nearly refused her nonverbal request, still rankled, but he knew Chloe was capable of fighting her own fights without his interference.

"Now that we are all on the same page, I'm assigning another Detective onto the case to work alongside the two of you."

Chloe did not ask why, simply going along. "Who?"

"Detective Espinoza. He's worked several cases with Narcotics in the past and I think he will be a useful addition. I don't like sending my Detectives in alone and while I appreciate Mr. Morningstar's skillset, he is not a trained officer. Now I know you and Espinoza are having issues in your personal lives but I expect the highest level of professionalism from all parties involved or I will take you off this case."

"Understood." Chloe said shortly.

Monroe nodded. "Excellent. Now, as to how we will be proceeding with the case…"

The technicalities of police work had never held much interest for Lucifer. He managed to listen to all of three minutes worth of the jargon before deciding to abstain from the rest of the conversation. He caught Chloe's eye and she jerked her head slightly towards where Dan's desk was located, indicating he should go ahead.

Happy to have a reason to escape, he walked over to where Daniel was hunched over what little remained of his lunch. Noticing Lucifer's approach, he took a massive swallow of his sandwich and set the rest down.

"Oh, hey man. I guess Monroe told you guys I was being added on to the team?"

There was a vacant seat nearby and Lucifer grabbed it, setting it beside the desk and straddling it backwards. "She did." He said, wondering why Dan did not sound hostile.

Their last few encounters had been getting worse and worse, outright insults replacing the vague insinuations from before. This was perhaps the most tame conversation they had had so far.

"Well, the good thing is the case will get wrapped up quickly with all three of us working together." Dan was giving him that weird half smile, almost friendly.

"True." He said, crossing his arms on the back of the chair and leaning forwards a bit. Despite his nap on the way over, he was still feeling a tad tired.

"Dude, what the hell happened to your hand?" Dan asked sharply.

He looked down, surprised to see blood staining his right hand. Oh right, he had injured it during the therapy session. Funny, he had not felt so much as a twinge of discomfort in the appendage since leaving Linda's office.

Most of the blood was on his palm, obscuring the four crescent cut he knew lay beneath. A bit had also smeared across his fingers as well, dark and foreboding as it dried.

"Oops." He said, reaching into his breast pocket for his handkerchief.

To his dismay, his pocket was empty. He looked down uncomprehendingly for a moment before remembering he had given it to that officer earlier who had spilled coffee on himself. Well, no good deed went unpunished.

"That's a lot of blood. What did you and Chloe do, behead a chicken?" Dan was trying for humor but the joke fell flat for Lucifer.

"I don't do animal sacrifices, Daniel. Only a malicious deity would ever ask for death in its name."

Dan looked abash. "Right, sorry."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed as he waited for the patronizing remark that would surely follow the apology but none was forthcoming.

"Excuse me." He said curtly, rising.

Now that he was aware of the dried blood, his hand was suddenly itchy. Going into the bathroom, he turned the faucet to its hottest setting and pushed the soap dispenser several times.

The room was empty thankfully. Blood was one of those things that tended to get noticed in a precinct. Which was why he had been so careful to hide his hand.

Scrubbing harder than necessary, he dutifully picked the blood out from under his fingernails and cuticles. The water collecting at the bottom of the metal sink had turned a sickly pink, bubbles collecting on the edges from the enormous amount of soap he was using.

Once satisfied, he turned his hand over and examined his palm.

The cuts were not the neat crescents he had been expecting. They were large and jagged, almost like he had sawed at the flesh. Even as he watched, more bright red blood oozed out of the cuts, collecting into droplets before sliding down his hand.

More washing did not stem the blood flow. The longer he scrubbed, the worse it hurt and soon the cuts were weeping anew again.

He needed to leave the bathroom. Chloe was probably finished with her little meeting and would be wondering where he was.

For some reason, he did not want her to see his hand. It was a shameful mark of his loss of control, a reminder of how fragile he had become.

Pulling free a few paper towels, he wrapped them around his hand, putting pressure on the makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. The force made it hurt more, small stabbing pains he had never felt before but certainly was not enjoying.

Shouldering the door open, he looked around the bullpen carefully.

His prolonged absence had not been noticed, it appeared. Chloe was still deep in discussion with Monroe and Daniel was tinkering on his computer.

At times like these he wished he had his own desk or something. There was nowhere he could go, except for back to Dan. His presence tended to draw attention and there was nowhere else he could hang out with attracting a small crowd.

Dan looked up as he threw himself back into his chair. "You cleaned it up?" He asked, twisting to better face him.

"I did." Why was the Douche suddenly so interested in him? It must be a sign of Armageddon. But last he'd checked, the world wasn't to end for another -

"Good. Cause I got the med kit while you were gone so we can bandage your hand properly." Like magic, he pulled an ancient looking plastic box out from under his desk.

There were several things Lucifer did not understand in that statement. Mostly, the aforementioned 'we' - though the appearance of the med kit was also throwing him for a loop.

"I'm quite capable of taking care of my own hand, thank you." He wanted to push his chair back and put some distance between them but that sounded decidedly un-Devilish.

Dan's smile was looking strained. "Look man, hand injuries are hard to bandage yourself okay? I'm just trying to help you out."

"I don't need help. And if I did, I would certainly not take it from you." Okay, maybe he was overreacting just a tad.

To his surprise - the day just seemed full of them, hooray - Dan nodded in understanding.

"I know we haven't really gotten along and that's on both of us I guess. But you are part of the team now. I know you'd never let anything happen to Chloe and if I can't be there to protect her," He laughed awkwardly. "Well, I'd rather it be you than some rookie."

It was not, strictly speaking, a complement in the conventional sense but Lucifer could appreciate the honesty of the statement.

"And you Daniel are wonderful to antagonize." He said kindly in return.

"Riiiight." He shook himself. "Now, can you stop being a child and let me fix your hand?" He opened the med kit, pulling out a bottle of some antibacterial liquid and gauze.

Lucifer did as he was told, setting his hand palm up on the desk. He was a bit curious about this whole ritual, having never really treated himself like this before. Conquering the band aid had been hard enough but this looked quite a bit more complicated. What was that blackish liquid even for?

He found out a moment later when Dan applied an antibacterial soaked gauze strip to the cuts. The flash of pain was sharp and he pulled his hand back sharply, expecting to see some sort of puncture wound.

"What is that?" He asked angrily, inspecting his hand for further damage.

Dan leaned back. "Dude, it's just Neosporin."

"I don't like it." He eyed the bottle savagely, wondering if the creator was still alive. Maybe he was due a visit...

"No one likes it but it's necessary. You don't want the cuts to get infected, do you?" Dan was getting impatient. "You know, Trixie never reacts this way."

The Detective allowed this torture to be bestowed upon her spawn?

Abruptly, he stuck his hand back out, managing not to wince as Dan applied the liquid. The initial shock of pain had worn off, leaving behind a much more moderate discomfort.

Upon finishing, Dan then picked up the gauze roll, eyeing the injured area critically. "I can't just use a band aid for this because the cuts are so widespread so I'm just going to run the gauze around your hand, okay? That should help with the bleeding too."

"You're the supposed expert. I am at your mercy." He said shortly, shooting a look to where Chloe was still in mid discussion.

Wordlessly, Dan grabbed his wrist, readjusting his hand into a better position. At the contact, Lucifer nearly jerked away again. He went rigid, watching as Dan quickly wrapped his hand. The occasional brush of skin was almost more than he could take, every nerve screaming DANGER.

The moment his hand was released, he yanked it out of reach.

"See? Not too bad." Dan said cheerily, replacing everything in the med kit.

Lucifer did not respond, wide eyed with shock.

Dan grin faded. "Are you okay?" He asked, moving closer.

Lucifer pushed his feet against the floor, sending the wheelie chair several feet backwards. "Do. Not. Touch. Me." He said icily.

Dan opened his mouth before a look of understanding flashed across his features. "I'm sorry, I should have asked."

Humans really were weird creatures. How was it that the Douche was more respectful of his wishes than Sadie had been last night? As a matter of fact, why was Dan helping him at all? He had gotten nothing from the arrangement, not that he had asked for anything.

As Dan rose to return the med kit to its usual spot beside the elevator, he realized he had blunder.

"Daniel." He said quietly. "Thank you."

"No problem, it's what we do."

He supposed that was true. Detectives and other officers of the law wanted to help people, it seemed to be an inherent part of their nature for the most part.

He looked back to where Chloe and Monroe were finishing up. In a moment, they would be back to working the case but for now… well, his day had taken a remarkable turn and he felt no guilt in enjoying it for a bit.


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N - I'm sorry to say this chapter is rather short. I encountered a nasty bit of writing block but wanted to get something out. The next chapter will follow shortly. Thank you for all the kind comments last chapter, you guys seriously rock! I'm honored to be writing for such a wonderful fandom. You're all so kind with your comments and helpful with pointing out errors._

_Special thank you to __Laetitia-cha__n, blueexorcist, OldGirl-NoraArlani, ShelbyT, AaliyahEllison, Sapphire's Ink, Dobby and Padfoot, Hellz Blaze, Patougv, and everyone else who reviews, favorites, or follows._

_Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Six - So Far**

Chloe watched Monroe return to her office, sighing in relief. She hated these types of conversations with her superiors. They made her feel inferior, like she needed her hand to be held. She had been a detective going on five years now and, in part due to her partnership with Lucifer, her solve rate was amongst the highest in the department.

Gathering her case file, she rose and walked towards Dan's desk.

If she had known Monroe wanted to talk for so long, she never would have sent Lucifer over to heckle her… was husband still the proper word to describe her relationship with Dan? Technically, they were still together but the longer the separation went, the less likely reconciliation seemed possible.

When she had initially suggested they spend time apart, almost seven months ago, both had agreed it was a way for them to clear their heads. But the talk that should have come after never happened. Dan had only asked once when she thought he could return home but since then neither of them had questioned their current arrangement. Even Trixie had learned it was hopeless to ask when life would return to normal.

And the longer they were separated, the more glaringly obvious it became that they simply did not work well together as spouses.

It was hard to digest - the knowledge that the relationship she had carefully nurtured for over seven years had died under her watchful eye. Had the warning signs always been there? And if Dan was not the right man for her, who was?

Her gaze unconsciously fell to Lucifer, who was playing with the Rubik's Cube Dan kept on his desk for when Trixie visited the station. The over-sized man was glaring openly at the toy, unable to complete the puzzle, though not for lack of trying judging by Dan's exasperated look.

"Dude, will you stop playing with everything on my desk?" he snapped, reaching out for the cube.

Lucifer did not even look up, kicking the floor so the chair rolled out of reach. "No."

Chloe halted, silently watching the exchange. She sensed something major had changed between the two men, though she could not fathom what. They were bothering one another like usual but the menace was no longer present. It was more akin to how young boys sometimes play together at the park, rough but with comradery.

Her focus was drawn to Lucifer, who was still fiddling with his new toy. The glint in his eyes which had been conspicuously absent all day had finally returned. It left his gaze softer, more complacent than she could recall ever seeing him in Dan's presence.

As if he could sense her watching him, Lucifer looked up, abandoning his toy. He grinned, not the lecherous look she was more accustomed to, but with a startling brightness that radiated from in.

"Detective! You've finally finished then?" He tossed the Rubik's Cube at Dan without looking, somehow managing to nail the other man squarely in the head. "Excellent, we can proceed with the case now."

Dan rubbed the back of his head, looking ready to retaliate. Having seen far too many children fight to not know the signs, Chloe casually placed herself between the two men, effectively cutting off their sight lines. It would be asking far too much of Dan to get along with Lucifer when he was in one of his more jubilant moods. She herself could barely handle him in these moments, a runaway dog who she simply allowed to drag her along and prayed he did not lead them directly into oncoming traffic.

"What did the Lieutenant say?" Dan asked.

"Nothing much. She wants to be personally informed about the case at the end of every day. Apparently, Narcotics is already sniffing around."

Dan turned to his computer, pulling up a page. "I looked up this Anthony Stone. He has a few drug possession charges, mostly minor stuff like marijuana, but nothing in the past three or so years." He clicked onto another page. "On the other hand, he has a sealed court record."

Chloe nodded knowledgeably but Lucifer, who had come up to stand behind her and was now peering over her shoulder, looked confused.

"I thought court records could not be sealed." He said with the air of someone who had personally investigated into such a thing.

Chloe chose to simply answer his question and ignore the implication. "Minors can choose to seal their court records as adults in certain circumstances. He was most likely found not guilty but wanted it expunged anyway."

"There's no way we're going to be able to unseal it without just cause." Dan frowned, clicking a few more tabs but coming up with nothing.

"We'll need to start interviewing his family and friends and move on from there." Chloe decided. "Have the surveillance cameras from the restaurant been collected yet?"

"They were brought in this morning along with one of the dishwashers who was working. I questioned him while you were out but he doesn't remember hearing anything like a gunshot. No one else was in the restaurant at the time and the building next door was also closed for the night."

"So all we really have is the camera footage then." she said dejectedly.

The lack of eye witnesses was not really surprising given the late hour of the crime but it was a blow all the same.

"I'll go find the camera footage and set it up while you interview the Stones." Dan offered, rising from his chair with a stretch.

Lucifer, who had been unnaturally quiet up to this point, piped up. "Are there any physical copies of the boy's court record?"

Chloe turned to face her partner sharply. He was the picture of innocence, hands clasped behind his back and eyes wide - which was the dead giveaway.

"Lucifer, we're not breaking into the DA's office and stealing." she reprimanded.

His eyes narrowed in mock indignation. "Why Detective, I'm hurt! I would never steal, it's beneath me." He grinned wolfishly, showing far too many white teeth. "I was going to have Maze do it for us."

The urge to face palm was overwhelming.

"Isn't Maze your bartender?" Dan asked curiously.

Lucifer chuckled. "Don't let her catch you saying that. Mazikeen is a warrior of exceptional prowess."

"Warrior? Is that what all the leather is about? It doesn't look all that practical for fighting."

"Oh believe me, Maze is quite flexible regardless of what she happens to be wearing."

"Guys, the case." Chloe waved her file impatiently, making a mental note to address Lucifer's worrying lack of concern over theft later.

Dan disappeared in the direction of the forensics lab with a sheepish look and Chloe pinched her brow and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to ward off the headache that had dogged her for most of the day. As glad as she was that her partner and sorta husband were getting along - and wasn't that a sad statement - she could foresee dark days ahead of her. Dealing with one man child was difficult enough but from what she had just seen, Dan was also falling into the pit of juvenile behavior.

"Detective are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and found Lucifer watching her closely, brow furrowed.

"Yeah I'm fine. My head hurts a little." she said, resisting the urge to continue to rub her forehead and relieve the pressure building. "I'm probably a little dehydrated, I haven't eaten anything today. I was going to grab a late breakfast before-" She cut off abruptly, hoping Lucifer would not read into the implication of her words.

But luck was simply not on her side today. Lucifer wilted, the newly returned spark in his eyes extinguishing once more. He worried at his cuff-link, gaze dropping to the floor.

She sighed, his reaction reminding her so much of when Trixie felt guilty that now she felt badly for even bringing it up. Sometimes it was so painfully obvious that he was essentially a child. How could she have not seen it earlier?

"It's not your fault." she said simply.

If he were Trixie, or even Dan, she would give him a hug or grip his arm to reassure him. He would not perceive it as such however. If anything, he was more likely to associate a hug with punishment, a connection she desperately did not want him to make. So, she resisted her instincts and hoped he could hear the truth in her words.

Even though she planned to introduce him to positive contact, she knew she would have to start small. Like, brushing arms by mistake small. As terrible as it sounded, she was thinking of looking into how abused dogs were reintroduced to physical contact. Treating him like a child, despite his proclivity for acting as one, was simply not going to work. It was clear he had no fallback, no positive experience to draw on. The basic instinct, the way a crying child searches for an adult, was lacking. Everything would have to be taught with repetition and rewards until he ceased to make the negative connection.

Her eyes burned at the very thought, giving him a cookie every time he did not flinch from a pat on the back. And the worst bit was she knew he would be delighted with being offered such a pathetic treat. For all the joy he derived from alcohol or a pretty woman, nothing could compare to how excited he had once become when someone had brought him a coffee. She suspected he thought everyone felt the same way about receiving something so simple because shortly thereafter, he began bringing her a coffee whenever he came in. How he came to know her order, she never knew. But from that day on, he would all but prance from the elevator and deposit his prize on her desk expectantly.

A week ago, she would have ignored his behavior and attributed it to his eccentric nature but now she knew different. And she was going to cherish every single coffee he brought her. It was sweet, how he wanted to share the happiness he felt with her. And it did make her happy. Weirdly enough, no one else ever got her order right. Whenever a detective went on a coffee run during late nights at the precinct, she always knew her's would be wrong. She never complained because it was hardly worth noting but still, her partner of just a few months had nailed it on his first try.

"Detective?" Lucifer questioned and she realized she must have spaced out for a bit.

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about the case. We should set up in interrogation room one. The Stones will be here soon."

He nodded absently, drifting away as she went to the back of the precinct where the three interrogation rooms were set up. Entering the viewing room, she double checked the camera was ready to record and the audio was functioning. Satisfied everything was ready, she put another metal chair in the interrogation room for the Stones and went to look for Lucifer.

It worried her that he was still walking on eggshells around her. She had thought his fears from earlier had been dispelled but he was still acting like one wrong move would end their friendship. Hopefully, having Dan around would help. It certainly couldn't do any harm. As happy as Chloe was that Lucifer was taking the friendship thing seriously, he needed males friends too.

She did not have to look far for her partner. He was inserting change into one of the vending machines. Funny, he had never struck her as the type to carry around loose quarters and dimes.

He finished his purchase, punching in the code for his selection and stepping back. The machines whined to life, whatever he had bought falling out with a thump. He bent to retrieve it, pulling out a water bottle.

Again, Chloe was surprised. For all the snacks he regularly consumed, she had never witnessed Lucifer drink anything other than alcohol and the occasional coffee.

He looked up sharply, heading snapping in her direction as predatory eyes zeroed in on her. The moment he recognized her, he relaxed again, sauntering up to her side.

"Ah, I was just going to look for you. Here," he held out the water bottle. "For your headache."

She took the bottle with a smile. "Thank you. That was very thoughtful."

He smiled. "No thanks is necessary, it's what you desired after all."

She knew he didn't mean it like that, like he was required to get her the bottle because of his devil shtick, but it bothered her nonetheless.

"Lucifer, we've been over this. You don't owe me any- what happened to your hand?"

Was she the world's worst detective? How the hell had she failed to notice his hand was bandaged? The pristine white gauze stuck out from his black jacket sleeve like a beacon.

"An accident." He said, sliding the appendage into his pants pocket and out of view.

He gave her an innocent smile but she was not fooled. She would have to ask Dan about it later, she was certain Lucifer had not shown up to the precinct with his hand all wrapped up. There was no point in pushing the issue now though, it would just lead to a worse headache.

Uncapping the bottle, she took a long drink. "I didn't think you were the kind to carry around loose change." she commented as they made their way back to the interrogation rooms.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't usually but seeing as my former therapist has my entire billfold, I decided to borrow some change from the donation jug they've set up by the coffee maker."

Chloe stopped walking. Just stopped, one foot raised. She replayed what he had said in her mind but it in no way, shape, or form made even an ounce of sense.

"Could you repeat that please?" she asked faintly.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "Just as a said, I gave Dr. Martin my billfold as payment right after I dropped her as my therapist. As I didn't have any money, I took some from the donation jug. I was certainly entitled to it. Isn't that the point of the charity collection?"

Yep, it still wasn't making much sense.

"You're no longer going to see Dr. Martin?" she asked, deciding to take this one issue at a time.

"Detective are you well? I've said twice now that I am no longer utilizing Linda Martin's services."

"Are you going to see another therapist then?" This was not good.

He looked at her oddly. "I doubt it. Therapists have this nasty habit of answering questions with more questions. It leads to a terrible game of convolutedness that I would rather abstain from."

How could everything be such a mess? Yesterday everything was fine. No case, no personal issues. She was paying dearly for it now. Maybe this was all because she had lied about shooting Lucifer, some cosmic equalizer that said she had to suffer.

"We need to talk about this." she said seriously.

He smiled, not understanding the gravity of the situation. "Of course Detective. I'm having a party at Lux later, by all means come around and we can," he gaze her a once over, "Discuss whatever you please."

"I'm serious." she hissed, squeezing her water bottle hard.

Lucifer faltered and for a moment she hoped she was getting through to him.

"Hey, the Stones are here." Dan came over and the moment was broken.

Lucifer's carefree look was firmly back in place. "Well by all means let's not keep them waiting. We have a murderer to catch."

Dan nodded in affirmation and the two of them headed to where an elderly couple waited, devastation written clearly across their faces.

Funny, they looked about as bad as Chloe currently felt.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N - Hehe, I promised the next chapter would be up quickly. Thank you to everyone who was so understanding about last chapter's shortened length. To show my gratitude, I've added a little surprise at the end of the chapter - no skipping ahead, I promise the wait is worth it._

_Special thank you to the-darker-side-of-things, ShelbyT, OldGirl-NoraArlani, Laetitia-chan, Dobby and Padfoot, and everyone else who reviews, follows, or favorites. _

_I hope you enjoy and, as always, let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Seven - Die Young**

Paul Stone was exactly how one would expected a generic pharmacist to look. He was short and leaning towards the rounder side. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses, the same color as this thinning silver hair, made his eyes appear unnaturally large like an owl's.

In contrast, his wife, April, looked like she was in desperate need of some sleep. Her frame, thin and frail, was wracked with trembles, her nails rattling against the metal tabletop.

Chloe had done her best to make the interrogation room seem a little less menacing but it was not like she could have brought pillows for the chairs or hung up a picture. She wished this interview could have been done at home, where the couple could feel more comfortable. Monroe, however, had her own ways of doing things.

"Mr. and Mrs. Stone, I'm Detective Decker and this is my partner." she spoke gently, trying to put the couple at ease by not giving Lucifer's name.

Such subtleties were lost on him however. "Lucifer Morningstar." he said impressively, irked that she had failed to introduce him properly.

Mrs. Stone recoiled, watery eyes switching between the two of them as she looked for the joke. "Morningstar? As in the club owner?"

"That's who you have on my son's case?" Mr. Stone asked sharply and he was no longer an owl. His eyes burned, hard and cold as a hawk.

Chloe held her hands up placatingly. "I understand how… unusual the situation appears. Mr. Morningstar has served the LAPD as a consultant for several months now. He was directly involved in solving the murder of the musician Delilah and has since worked several cases along with myself."

Lucifer leaned over to her. "You forgot the time I solved the paparazzi killer case. Oh and the famous football player too. Really, I must have been directly responsible for quite a bit of good press the LAPD has gotten recently."

She blinked at him and turned back to the Stones, who were looking less than impressed.

"As I said, Mr. Morningstar is an asset to the department." she opened the file, eager to move the conversation towards a topic less likely to get her written up. "Now, Anthony has been living with you for the past year correct?"

Mr. Stone answered, giving Lucifer a hard look. "Yes. After his last round of rehab, he decided to clean up his act. He came back home and enrolled in college. Even got on the soccer team."

"Which school?" she asked, filling in a few blanks.

"California State in Northridge. I would have preferred if he had gone to UCLA like the rest of his cousins but… well, I was just glad he was taking a step forward."

Mrs. Stone nodded. "He was so excited about going back to school. He wanted to become an architect." her lips wobbled. "He told me he wanted his first project out of school to be building a house we could retire in."

Mr. Stone gripped his wife's hand hard. "What do you need to know to catch our son's killer?"

Chloe sighed inwardly. Her questions were likely to antagonize the couple. To rule out the possibility of Anthony ever dealing drugs, she would have to directly ask about it. The likelihood that Mr. Stone would take it as questioning his professionalism was high. After all, if Anthony was indeed dealing, it made sense his father was the one providing the stock.

"Mr. Stone, you said Anthony was in rehab. What for?" she asked carefully.

"He was in and out for a bit for alcoholism. He would have been clean twelve months this coming November." Mr. Stone said curtly.

"And what about drugs? Anthony had several charges for possessing marijuana." She really hoped Lucifer did not say anything stupid in the next five minutes.

As expected, Mr. Stone bristled. "What, because he used one drug you assume he used others?"

"Did your son suffer from seizures?" she forged on with her questions, not giving in to the argument Mr. Stone seemed intent on starting.

"Anthony didn't have seizures." Mrs. Stone piped up, giving her husband a nervous look. She tugged gently on his arm, "Paul, please settle down. They're just trying to help."

"Anthony was found with enough phenobarbital in his system to kill someone twice his size." Chloe maintained the same quiet tone she had been using throughout the interview.

"No!" Mrs. Stone leapt to her feet wildly. "They said it was a gunshot! Anthony didn't overdose. He would never! Maybe he had a few issues with marijuana but he knew to stay away from the serious stuff."

"Mrs. Stone, please calm down." Chloe checked her watch. "Would you like to suspend the interview for a few minutes? Someone could go and get you some coffee."

Mr. Stone rose to his feet too. "How dare you!" he snarled. "My son is dead and you are making wild accusations! Phenobarbital? Absolute crap. But just by Morningstar's presence, I can safely assume this case is not important to you. Instead of interrogating us, you should be looking for the killer!"

"Mr. Stone, please take a seat." It was getting harder and harder for Chloe to maintain control of the situation without resorting to serious action. But if that was what it took…

Several things happened at once. Mrs. Stone, besides herself, collapsed back into her chair and began to sob openly. Mr. Stone leaned over the table aggressively, getting in Chloe's face.

"You listen here-"

The remainder of his statement was cut off as a massive hand wrapped around his shirt collar and hauled him the rest of the way across the table.

"Mr. Stone, one more word against the Detective and I will have no choice but to demonstrate what happens when people are disrespectful to my partner." Lucifer shook the man lightly. "And the last human to do so was locked up. His brain's all mushy from what I've been told, though I can't take all the credit for his current state. He was never all that intelligent to begin with"

"Lucifer, release him!" Chloe said sharply.

But he was not listening to her. Leaning closer to the terrified pharmacist, he plastered on a grin more befitting a hyena. "Now, we are going to conduct the rest of this interview with the professionalism befitting businessmen such as ourselves. Understand?"

Mr. Stone nodded frantically and Lucifer released him with a snort, settling back in his chair and crossing his feet.

Chloe stared. He had gone from rabid animal to content house cat in a matter of seconds. Sometimes he would act so childish and goofy that she forgot he was strong enough to throw people twice his size through windows as if it were nothing. Just because he happened to behave around her did not in any way mean she could actually control him. When push came to shove, Lucifer would do what he pleased.

When she had visited Jimmy Barnes after being released from the hospital, he had been absolutely hysterical. Smashing his head against the glass, leaving smudges of blood, it was one of the most terrifying things she had ever witnessed. Since then, he had been under heavy sedation and she could not bring herself to try and visit again.

How could a man who was terrified of hugs from children also drive an adult insane? How could he speak so callously of life yet try to avenge Delilah? How could he not understand he deserved to be happy if he spent most of his time making everyone else so?

Case. She was on a case. Literally in the middle of a fucking interrogation. Focus.

Forcing herself to the present again, she started, "Mr. Stone, I understand that you want answers but yelling at us is not going to help. What we need is your cooperation. I can show you the file, your son had a substantial amount of Phenobarbital in his system. Yes, the cause of death was a gunshot wound to the back of the head but right now we are trying to put all the pieces together." She squared her shoulders. "Now, did your son have a drug abuse problem?"

When the parents hesitated, Lucifer grew impatient. "It appears they are unwilling to be forthcoming."

"He was clean." Mrs. Stone said shakily. "I help my husband do inventory at his pharmacy and I swear, not so much as a Tylenol ever went missing. Please, you have to believe me."

And Chloe did or, she believed Mrs. Stone believed Anthony was clean. Whether or not he was actually was a different story entirely. But as nothing had shown up during the testing, she was forced to lay aside that angle for the moment and move on to the next.

"Did Anthony have any enemies? Was he recently involved in a dispute or something similar?" Chloe asked.

"Detective, we live in Encino. People don't brawl like hoodlums in our neighborhood." Mr. Stone protested.

Lucifer raised a brow. "No of course you don't. You hire other people to get your messages across."

"What Mr. Morningstar means is, a nice neighborhood does not guarantee nice neighbors. Have there been any incidents?"

The two slowly shook their heads.

Chloe sighed. Well, at least they still had the school and - she flicked through the file - a girlfriend to speak to. Speaking to the parents had at least pushed the drug angle into left field, meaning Narcotics would have to give up any claim they were making to the case.

"I think that is all for now." Chloe said, rising and offering her business card. "If you think of anything, by all means call. Even an insignificant detail could be important."

"But Detective! I didn't even get to ask them what they desired!" Lucifer protested.

"Thank you for your time." She ignored her partner and held the door open for the couple. They wandered out, hand in hand, Mrs. Stone still shaking. The moment the door swung shut again, she rounded on Lucifer. "You can't just assault people!"

Lucifer crossed his arms, still sprawled in his chair. "I did not assault the man, no physical injury was rendered to him."

"It doesn't matter, you touched him without consent." She leaned heavily against the door.

A part of her could not be too angry with him. When Mr. Stone had loomed over her, she had been two seconds away from arresting him for threatening an officer. But she also knew when to stop, where that all so important line was that she could not cross. She did not trust that Lucifer knew it too. If she had not intervened, there was no telling how far he would have gone.

And sometimes that scared her absolutely shitless.

"Next time, let me handle it please." she rubbed her brow. "They could have filed charges."

"Detective, I've seen my fair share of grief. People don't come to me for favors because they have a choice. They're desperate, broken. They think that what I offer them can make them happy, complete them. And perhaps sometimes that is true. But mostly, it leads to a far worse fate." His eyes hardened. "Sadness is the worst emotion. It runs far too close to guilt. I was not just saving you Detective, I was saving dear Mr. Stone as well. Slapping a police officer would lead to all sorts of ramifications. Things I believe his family could do without."

Huh. How mature of him.

Of course, he ruined the moment by adding a second later. "Also, how would it look if I allowed my partner to get decked in the face by a senor citizen?"

She shook her head helplessly. "C'mon, let's go see if Dan has the camera footage set up yet."

As they made their way to the conference room - where Dan was just visible wrestling with a dozen wires - Chloe said, "You don't talk fondly about how you give out favors. Why do you still do it?"

Lucifer did not answer immediately. He watched another officer walk by with a handcuffed woman in her wake. "It's not the favors I loath. Rather, what you humans do with them." A shadow of sadness crossed his features. "Delilah was one of the first people I granted a favor when I first came here. She was supremely talented despite having no real training. I worked to refine her raw singing ability into something extraordinary. When she broke into the industry, I expected her to do well. Instead, the stories kept piling up. Parties, drugs, reckless driving." He stopped walking abruptly. "You lot never seem to know when you have a good thing going. She could have become a star, she certainly had the talent. Instead, she wasted it all on poor decision after decision. And it killed her in the end."

Chloe remembered how adamant he had been about finding the killer, always one step ahead of her throughout the investigation.

"So what did you get in return then?" she asked. "I mean, your favors are a two way street, right?"

Sometimes, he looked far older than he had any right to. Decades would pile upon his shoulders and he was no longer her partner but some timeless force.

"In return for launching her career, I asked that she simply pull herself together. Funny, she was dead only ten minutes later." He forced out a chuckle. "Well, let's not keep Daniel waiting. He seems to be struggling quite a bit with plugging in the telly.

He strode off but Chloe waited a moment before following. Did he still feel guilty about Delilah after all this time?

She watched absently as Dan and Lucifer interacted in the other room. They were talking which was good, Dan even cracking a smile. Whatever the two of them had shared had definitely benefited everyone.

Joining the others in the conference room, she waited for Dan to get the TV up and running. Lucifer was looking on, adding 'helpful' hints whenever he found it appropriate. New as it all was, there was a sense of familiarity. It declared 'this was how things were supposed to be'.

And Chloe was just fine with that.

* * *

She knew it couldn't last - law of the universe.

The camera footage had shown absolutely nothing, not even a shadow. Their only hope lay in contacting the girlfriend and the college soccer team but both would have to wait until the next day.

As they broke down to leave, Lucifer once again offered her an invitation to Lux that night for the small party he was hosting, extending the same to Dan. Both agreed to go for a bit. Trixie's babysitter was able to work late and besides, when was the last time she had gone out with Dan? Maybe this was what they needed, an evening together to repair their shredded relationship.

Lucifer went on ahead while she stayed behind to give her report to Monroe for the day. The Lieutenant was less discouraged than Chloe would have thought, merely telling her to keep up the good work.

As she returned to her desk to gather her bag, she found Dan waiting for her. He appeared agitated, one foot tapping against the ground impatiently.

"Everything okay?" she asked

He shook his head. "You saw Lucifer's hand?"

Had she actually been the last to notice? Wow, she should just put herself up for a demotion and be done with it.

"I asked him about it but he wouldn't tell me what happened." She collected a few things for home and zipped her bag shut, shouldering it.

Dan fell into step beside her as they walked to the parking garage. "He didn't tell me either but I cleaned it up for him." He hesitated. "Chloe, his reaction was… bad."

"How bad?" she faltered by her car. They had decided to just take one vehicle tonight instead of going separate. "Like, Trixie has a splinter bad?"

He grimaced. "Try, 'you're amputating my hand without anesthetics' bad."

"Oh."

"He freaked out completely, practically fell off his chair. I had no idea he was so uncomfortable. I'm an idiot, I should have asked permission first but it was just second nature."

"Hey, don't beat yourself up, I didn't know it was that bad either." She laid a hand over his arm as he kicked at the ground.

"I want to help but I don't know how. There's no road map for this."

"I know." she said quietly, still rubbing his arm. "I'm planning on trying to slowly get him acclimated to touch. Right now, it seems he instinctively goes on the defensive."

Dan nodded. "If anyone can do it, it's you."

For a while, they just stood there in the poor lighting and drew comfort from one another. And both of them realized that Lucifer had never felt this, never had a partner from which he could draw strength. It was a humbling moment and for the first time since the separation, both of them just wanted to go home and have dinner together like a typical Wednesday night.

But those days were over and Chloe had no intention of deluding herself into thinking anything had changed just because of a moment of weakness. It still hurt when she pulled away though, the reminder of what they had once had so profound, it felt as if they were separating all over again.

"We should get going, I'm sure Lucifer is waiting for us." she said, forcing herself to smile.

"Yeah." Dan agreed, looking dazed as he climbed into the driver's seat of the car.

* * *

Long before the car drew near to Sunset Boulevard, traffic became an absolute nightmare. And it didn't take two seasoned detectives to figure out why.

Lux had always glowed, an ethereal light bathing the building in shades of gold that have no obvious point of origin. Most of the cars ahead of them turned into the club's parking garage but just as many crawled by the building itself, dazzled by the absurd beauty no construction of steel and glass had any right to express.

When Dan pulled up, he half expected to be turned away. The line to get inside stretched far into the distance, everyone dressed to the nines.

It did not occur to Chloe that maybe she should be wearing something nicer than her usual slacks and sweater combination but it was too late to go home and change.

A bouncer approached the car, a behemoth of a man even larger than Lucifer.

"Hello folks." he said, not unkindly, once Dan had rolled down the window. "May I ask your names?"

She and Dan exchange looks. Were they supposed to have invitations or something? How the hell had Lucifer managed to set all this up so quickly?

"Er, I'm Daniel Espinoza and this is Chloe Decker."

The bouncer immediately become more friendly, grinning at them from around a lip piercing. "Oh of course, the boss told me you two were coming. Drive right on in, a space in the parking garage has been left for you next to Mr. Morningstar's convertible. You can take the private elevator from there directly into the club."

"Thank you." Dan said, startled.

The parking garage was filled with all kinds of vehicles but it was easy to spot the group that personally belonged to Lucifer. All the cars were old, sleek, and either red or black. As promised, a space sat importantly beside the convertible, the golden nameplate above it declaring the spot reserved for 'Mr. Morningstar'.

Dan parked carefully, taking every precaution imaginable so he did not hit one of the expensive vehicles on either side of them. They climbed out and looked around.

"I knew he had money but holy shit." Dan breathed.

Chloe was only slightly less impressed. She had been into the club and penthouse before but now she was getting the full effect.

The private elevator was just beyond where they had parked. Making their way over, they found it was passcode protected.

"Of course he would neglect to tell us the code." Dan said, still looking around in amazement.

Chloe squinted and fumbled through a few tries. On her fourth attempt, the door slid open triumphantly.

Dan jumped. "How'd you do that?" he demanded.

Chloe giggled. "The pass-code was 666." Because of course it was. Honestly, how was it Lucifer had not already been robbed?

Entering, they pressed the only other option and the door closed silently. A dull hiss sounded and that familiar jump in their guts signaled they were moving. The ride was short as they were only going up one floor, not enough time for them to really marvel at the elevator.

The walls were covered in mirrors so tight, the seam between them was all but invisible. A silver railing wound around the wall, sparking from the light cast by the modest chandelier hanging above their heads. There was no music playing, a cheesy element that had no place here, but a dull throbbing was discernible.

Dan turned to Chloe, "What's that noise?"

His question was answered a moment later when a small ding signaled they had reached their floor and the doors swung open and an assault was launched on their senses.

Flashing strobe lights in multiple colors swept the space wildly, soaring the room into a blazing brightness only to plunge it into near darkness the next moment. Shadows danced against the wall, a sea of waving hands and bouncing heads in rhythm to the music crashing down from the speakers near the ceiling. Dancers dressed in leather costumes which left very little to the imagination were balanced high above the room, bodies contorting with a fluidity that was nearly inhuman.

The two detectives simply gaped.

Lux was always a bit wild but this was a whole new level, the usual elegance conspicuously absent.

"This is a small party?" Dan had to yell to be heard about the thunderous bass. "What the hell does he consider big?"

Chloe did not answer but was silently contemplating the exact same thing. She had been to her fair share of raves in her youth but somehow all those memories dimmed in comparison to now.

Stepping out of the elevator, she led the way to the edge of the balcony. From here they could oversee the entire room, the lights changing rapidly from blue to purple to red. Every bit of floor space was occupied by writhing bodies in what was surely an overcapacity violation. The grand piano that usually dominated the room had been pushed back, most likely to provide additional space for dancers to utilize.

Chloe tried to not pay too much attention to the overwhelming amount of illegal actively. It was sort of hard to ignore the entire table of people snorting coke but at least they were being quiet about. The group playing poker for joints however… Oh God, if this place was raided, she was going to absolutely lose her badge.

"D'you see Lucifer?!" Dan bellowed, too busy staring at the posterior of the club dancer next to them to notice the drug use.

Chloe elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. Ignoring his gasp of pain, she searched the room for her partner.

For a moment, the place was plunged into darkness as the strobe lights shot their beams upwards. When vision was restored, spots dancing before her eyes, she had no trouble spotting Lucifer.

He was not the tallest in the room, for once. In fact, there was nothing in his appearance that should have drawn her attention. A sentiment obviously not shared by the rest of the room.

He was leaning against the bar, feet crossed and one of those shit eating grins on his face. Everyone in his vicinity, whether they knew it or not, were facing him. He did not seem to mind in the slightest. Rather, he bathed in the attention and lusty looks he was receiving. The only thing seeming to keep everyone at bay was the fact Maze was perched at his shoulder, her predatory look so obvious it was nearly obscene.

Wordlessly, Chloe tapped Dan's shoulder, once again drawing his attention away from the dancer's rear.

"What?" he asked and she pointed to where Lucifer was stationed.

The two made their way down the stairs, careful to not knock into anyone else. Seriously, if there was a fire, people were going to literally die. This was way too crowded.

The crowd was thickest near the bar and Dan took the lead, using his broader frame to cut a path through the throng. Try as she might to keep with him, Chloe felt the pressure of bodies force them apart. Music rattling in her head, she swerved sharply, losing sight of Dan. The suffocating pressure increased, the air too thick to breathe. Dimly, she was aware she was beginning to panic from the claustrophobic feeling. Pushing forward blindly, several people cursed at her as she spilled their drinks. But she needed to get out right now.

And then a hand was against the small of her back, driving her forwards. She burst out from the crowd, taking a deep breath of relief. The presence behind her did not disappear though the hand was removed from her back. Turning to thank whoever had saved her, she was surprised to find Lucifer watching her, bemused.

"Are you alright Detective?" he asked, drinking from the somehow unspilled glass in his left hand.

"Y-yeah." she said, still a bit shaken. "Thank you for er, getting me out of there."

"Hmm." he hummed, voice somehow clear despite the music. "It may be a bit crowded in here. You're the third short person I've rescued tonight."

"I am not short!" she protested which earned her a deep chuckle.

"Of course Detective, calling someone short, even if it true, is a bit of an insult now isn't it? What term do you humans use instead, vertically challenged?"

Oh he was going to pay for that one! She was not short. Actually, she was considered above average in the height department when compared to other women.

He was still laughing at her, a charming sound he had no right making while she was mad at him. Struck by an idea, she suddenly slithered forward. His eyes glittered as she approached and he voiced no protest when they ended up nearly chest to chest.

"Why Detective, I thought you said we weren't to 'discuss' anything tonight." He set his now empty glass on the bar top.

"Well, I was thinking," she kept eye contact even as one of her hands crept towards his pants pocket. "Maybe I was being too hasty before."

His warm eyes had that same glazed over look Dan had been wearing only a few minutes ago. Satisfied he was sufficiently distracted, she plunged her hand into his pocket.

Her plan was to take something from him, maybe his lighter, and hold it hostage until he apologized for the short comments. She snagged the first thing her hand came into contact with, some sort of wrapper, and pulled the newly claimed trophy free with a shout of triumph.

Lucifer stared, shocked, as she waved her hostage in front of him.

"That was for calling me short. Until you apologize, you're not getting back your -CONDOMS!?"

And sure enough she was holding what appeared to be an entire pack of condoms in brightly colored wrappers.

"EURGG!" She threw the offending item over his head, where it disappeared into the crowd.

Lucifer was no longer shocked. His entire body was shaking as he howled with laughter, body bent forward.

"What's going on?" Dan asked, coming over with a beer in hand.

Chloe was going to die. The blush she felt was all consuming, from her forehead to her toes.

Lucifer straightened, swiping at his eyes. "The Detective does not appear to be a supporter of birth control." And he was lost to peels of laughter again as he grasped onto the bar for balance.

"Huh? What's gotten into him?" Dan said to Chloe but she was in no condition to answer his question.

She recalled every embarrassing moment in her life. Every bad date. Every time she had ever tripped in public. But none of it even came close to what had just transpired. If the floor could just swallow her whole, she would appreciate it very much.

Lucifer had regained at least a bit of self control, though giggles still broke loose. "Oh nothing important Daniel. Why don't you two find a place to sit and drink a bit? It's on the house, just give your names at the bar." He turned away.

"Where are you going, man?" Dan asked, deciding Chloe was not going to be good company tonight. He had not seen her so much as blink in the last two minutes.

"Oh I just have to retrieve some personal property of mine. The Detective, for some unknown reason, thought she'd steal my condoms and toss them into the crowd. They're a special brand, imported and all that, so I would prefer to have them back." he tossed over his shoulder.

Dan spit his mouthful of beer out and looked to Chloe, aghast. "You did WHAT?"

"Not a word." she whispered, unseeing eyes replaying the incident over and over in her head. "Or so help me I will castrate you."

Dan wisely, slid back to the bar and ordered Chloe's favorite drink, presenting it to her as a sort of peace offering. She accepted it numbly, throwing the whole thing back. All thoughts of remaining sober had fled. She had already made a complete fool of herself, could she do any worse damage buzzed?

They managed to find a table tucked in the corner to hide at until she felt like rejoining society - which was likely to not be any time in the next decade at least.

What had she been thinking? The stress of the day must have gotten to her, she never acted like that. Even reaching into his pocket had been a rather daring move for her.

They ended up staying for only another hour or so. Lucifer made regular rounds to their table on his way to and from the bar, earning them the jealous looks of half the room. When it neared eleven, they called it quits, both having work the next day.

The room was no less crowded than earlier, making the struggle to the stairs even more difficult than before. Climbing to the balcony where the elevators were located, they found Lucifer waiting for them calmly. How he had seen they leave was a mystery.

"Leaving already?" he asked.

Dan shot Chloe an uncertain look and, when she showed no sign of speaking, he answered. "Yeah, we all have work tomorrow."

Lucifer nodded, looking at Chloe oddly. "Of course, you mortals and your need for sleep." he said mostly to himself. Stepping forward, he ducked his head to get a better look at Chloe. "Daniel, is the Detective broken? She seems rather… nonexistent."

That got through to the tiny part of her not currently consumed by embarrassment. "I'm fine." she growled.

Her threatening tone did not register with Lucifer, who instead smiled in apparent relief. "Splendid!" he said jovially. "I prefer you not comatose."

Oh God help her…

"Well, we gotta go. We'll see you at work tomorrow?" Dan said, hitting the elevator button.

Lucifer nodded. "Certainly Daniel. It takes more than a little get together to put the Devil down for the night."

Dan muttered something under his breath and hit the button again. When the doors opened, he stepped in. Chloe made to follow but found Lucifer blocking her way.

He was frowning, the carefree attitude from before gone. "Detective, are you sure you're alright?" he asked.

"Yep. Fine!" she said falsely.

He narrowed his eyes, assessing her. "Good." he said and it sounded far more genuine than before. "Have a good night, Detective."

And in a move that surprised both of them, he leaned forward and kissed her cheek quickly. She jumped, startled by the random display and he seemed equally affected, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding her gaze.

"Lucifer," she murmured, reaching a hand out for him but he flinched, shying away from her.

"Goodnight Chloe, Daniel." and he was out of reach, long legs carrying him to the opposite side of the balcony.

Funny, though they were separated by only thirty feet, it felt like miles.

Robotically, she climbed into the elevator. Dan did not comment on what had just happened, too buzzed to notice much. The ride back to the parking garage was wonderfully silent, as was the drive home.

And an hour later, as she settled into bed, Chloe replayed the scene over and over in her head, wondering what it all meant. It was so uncharacteristic, him kissing her. Maybe he had been a little drunk too, he had certainly visited the bar often enough. But he had been too aware of his actions for it to have stemmed from an inebriated state. Frustrated, she rolled over and buried her head under a pillow.

Every time she thought she had him figured, he would go and do something that changed everything. It was tremendously irritating. Oh, and who carried an entire pack of condoms around with them? He bragged about his sexual prowess often enough but no man was that good, it was biologically impossible.

She drifted off, thinking about the kiss he had given her and bright packages.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N - I haven't much to say about this chapter but I do have a question for everyone. What song reminds you of Deckerstar? I want to make a playlist because the coupling is coming soon and I can't write without music._

_Special thank you to john t, ShelbyT, Laetitia-chan, DaDragon562, and everyone else who comments, follows, or favorites._

**Chapter Eight - Yellow Light**

The first thing Lucifer was aware of as he broke free from sleep was snoring. Several people snoring actually.

Head buried beneath his pillow, he burrowed deeper into his bedding, hiding from the rumbling orchestra. The pocket of warmth his curled body created was beckoning for him to return to sleep. Fisting a hand in his blanket, he dozed for a bit, a profound sense of peace leaving him boneless.

This was his usual ritual after throwing a party. All that had troubled him yesterday now seemed so far away and meaningless, the blanket of ignorance under which he huddled being the salvation he so desperately craved after the emotional trainwreck of the previous day.

Eventually, his body reached a point where it was simply unable to rest any longer. He got up in stages, first unearthing his head and adjusting to the late morning light. Once he could see without squinting, he sat up and stretched gingerly. His back spasmed hard, a shock of pain driving through him like a drill. Torn muscles jerked, trying to relieve the sudden hurt but they could not move effectively without his wings. He waited, teeth gritted, for the pain to recede before trying to rise, knowing from experience that it was better to let everything back there sort itself out naturally.

Sitting as he was on the edge of the bed, he could make out some of the penthouse's main room.

Last night after Lux had closed around three in the morning, he had gathered anyone willing to remain and the festivities had moved upstairs. Aside from the numerous glasses and bottles sprawled across the bar and any other flat surface, an impressive number of people were passed out on his tiled floor. A pair of socked feet dangling over the side of the couch was just discernible, meaning at least one person had been sober enough to find a reasonable place to pass out.

The trail of partygoers stopped abruptly at the foot of the steps which led to his bedroom, as though an invisible barrier had been erected in the doorway. Lucifer was a bit surprised at that, he distinctly remembered taking several someones to bed last night. He tried to think back but the memories would not come, a blurry palette sliding around in his head. Perhaps the drug use had been a little excessive. It was rare for him to forget the face of someone with which he had fornicated, never mind an entire group.

He faintly remembered willingly taking anyone to bed who was interested. His night with Sadie had sat heavy in his gut. As it turned out, pure lust was a good way to drive out all those other nasty feelings. At least, he was not burdened by them now. Which was just another reason why this whole love thing was so clearly overrated. A wild romp in the sack had been far more freeing than his disastrous attempt at 'love making'.

Tentatively, he chanced getting to his feet, unconsciously holding his breath against the needles of pain he expected. There was a dull throb, a warning for him to be careful, but otherwise the movement was painless. More confident, he took his robe from its customary place on the winged chair in the corner and shrugged it on lazily, not bothering to tie it closed.

In all this time, the cacophony of snores from the other room had not changed in the slightest. He poked his head around the corner but there was no motion from his guests. As everyone looked to be at least breathing, he was satisfied he could leave them unattended for a bit.

He passed through his closet on his way to the bathroom, deciding to just continue his morning routine as usual. His duties as a good host had been, as far as he was concerned, fulfilled. No one had died, at least.

The bathroom held another surprise for Lucifer.

Six people were asleep in his oversized shower. How they had managed to drift off in such an uncomfortable environment, he was not sure. This left him in a bit of a dilemma though. There was no way he could use the shower without waking up the people inside and he was not particularly interested in interacting with anyone just now.

Maybe it was his own form of a hangover, but Lucifer found he had little patience after awakening from a night of debauchery. He would usually get up early and leave before his guests were aware, telling the staff to have everyone out of his penthouse by noon.

Moving to the vanity, he eyed himself critically, deciding to forgo the shower, much his ire - it was _his_ bathroom. Shaving, however, was non negotiable.

He paused, taking an extra minute to study his reflection. The bruise on his cheek had begun to fade, the edges turning a hardly noticeable yellow. It was darkest by his jaw but his stubble did a decent job of hiding the mottled purple and black. His hand ghosted over the sensitive area, remembering the feeling of Amenadiel's fist colliding.

It had been a long time since he had been struck. In Hell, his authority had only been questioned during those early years when the demons were furious about taking orders from a disgraced angel.

His razor was almost silent, a blessing he had never truly appreciated until now. Dressing in his closet, he made sure not a hair was out of place before venturing into the main room, stepping over slumbering forms.

The place was well on its way to being considered a wreck, furniture overturned and a painting or two lying on the floor amongst drinking glasses. This too would have to be dealt with before he returned for the evening.

Cleanliness was something he valued highly, right after pleasure. Hell was not the roaring inferno humans thought it was, that was just the outer edges. The interior, where the cells were located, was bold and barren. Ash fluttered around constantly, the incessant wind which blew never allowing it to truly settle. The particles coated everything, forcing the entire landscape to take on the same grey hue.

He shuddered at the thought, a phantom itch taking residence under his collar. Scratching at his neck, he retrieved his hip flask from behind the bar and pocketed it. The clock on the wall proclaimed it to be just past nine, rather early for him arrive at the precinct, but he was not altogether interested in sticking around.

He could swing by the coffee shoppe and pick something up for Chloe… and maybe Daniel if the line was not long.

Something tickled the back of his brain at the thought, a new itch which he could not reach. Absently, he located his car keys, thinking about last night.

It was hard to separate the evening into individual events. Everything seemed to bleed together. He could remember actions but not what had existed before or after. He mentally rewound to the beginning of the night.

The party had started and the crowd had gotten out of control. Maze threw a drink in someone's face. The Detective and Daniel had shown up. There had been drinking, so much drinking. Some time around his third cigarette, he had noticed Chloe leaving. She had been acting weird most of the night, first stealing his condoms and then refusing to make eye contact. They had said their goodbyes and then he had leaned in and kis-

The keys slipped from his now lax grip, clattering to the tiled floor. A good portion of the room jerked awake at the noise, blinking stupidly as they looked around. Then, there was a telltale rush to the bathroom as, some clutching their groins, others holding onto their stomachs, stampeded. A fight broke out, drowning out the sound of retching which drifted from the bathroom.

Lucifer would have been amused by the display if he had been in any state to think. His mind had screeched to a halt, unable to overcome the fact he had kissed Chloe.

And now he remembered why the party had been so over the top. The moment the Detective had left, he had tried his damnedest to forget what had happened. Moving the party upstairs had meant there was no time to dwell on anything other than the present.

He bent to retrieve his keys. As his hand curled around them, he caught sight of the white bandage adorning the appendage.

Now he felt like he might vomit.

What was going on? All these… these… oh Dad, what the fuck was happening?

Reaching for a bottle of something, he did not particularly care what at the moment, he gulped down a decent portion. It was smooth and he cursed the top shelf product he kept around. Right now he wanted the burn, something gut rotting that made the eyes sting.

His stomach was doing the weird thing again, like when Chloe had looked at him so sadly over her taco a few days ago. He hated how it felt, hated not knowing what it was.

Storming towards the bathroom, the only room in the entire penthouse with a door, he shoved aside the humans milling around.

"Out." He ordered sharply, not sparing a sympathetic glance for the young man with his head currently in the toilet. "All of you, get out." At the first mutinous mutter, he wheeled around. "I said OUT!" He roared.

Maybe his eyes had flashed red because suddenly the room was empty. Amazing, how quickly one could react in the face of fear.

His eyed the toilet with distaste, taking a seat on the edge of the bathtub instead and pulling out a cigarette. He did not smoke it however, instead twirling it in his fingers as he glared at the floor. His stomach was still doing the weird thing, but the feeling seemed to be growing, stretching up his chest like a cancer.

Running a hand roughly through his hair, he flicked the cigarette into the trashcan across the room.

Allowing Dan to bandage his hand had been one thing but kissing the Detective…

He had loudly proclaimed, until recently, his desire to sleep with her but that had been entirely based on the fact his abilities did not work on her. Maybe this was all about the friendship thing? It was possible. Perhaps friendship was like a sort of bond, tying the two of them together and making him feel these dreadful things.

Of course, bonds usually necessitated some form of consent, which he had, arguably, given. No one had warned him of this though.

It did not make sense that his Father would have granted such powerful magic to mere mortals though. Bonds were a dangerous affair. When one broke them, death was almost always the punishment.

Oh wait, that made sense actually. While at Linda's, when he thought his friendship with Chloe was over, he had acted irrationally, crying like a child. It must have been a punishment for nearly breaking the bond. Why else would he have behaved so unbecomingly?

His panic eased in the face of such a reasonable explanation. The kiss, it must have been the bond increasing his fondness for Chloe, strengthening the connection. Chloe had not acted the same because she was accustomed to this sort of thing. As a human, surely she must have experienced this before and therefore was better equipped to deal with this emotional nonsense.

A sense of relief, the first in longer than he cared to admit, left him feeling positively giddy. Too bad he had tossed his guests out. He was in the mood for a little fun.

Leaving the bathroom, he found the penthouse quite deserted. Only a few loose articles of clothing remained and, interestingly, a soccer ball. Where had that come from?

He kicked at the ball, careful to not scuff his loafers, and was delighted in how it bounced off his bookshelf and promptly broke a lamp. His interior designer would be annoyed but he had never cared much for that lamp anyway.

A few more kicks aimed at possessions his guests had left behind and he was bored again, though the penthouse was now much messier. He picked up the soccer ball, placing it on his bookshelf. It really was a marvelous little toy; he already had a dozen ideas for how to annoy Daniel with it.

He was getting sidetracked though.

The small office space he had sectioned off, more for appearances than anything else, was where he ended up. Settling in the leather chair, he opened one of the bottom drawers and withdrew a laptop.

The device looked brand new, which it kind of was. He had bought it several years ago but rarely used it, preferring to learn through practical application rather than skimming the internet.

Of course, the laptop was dead after sitting in a desk drawer for the better part of the last year. It took a bit of finagling to plug its charger into the wall and then boot it up. The screen loaded slowly, messages about updates and such popping up far more violently than Lucifer thought necessary. He exited out of these options, accessing the internet the moment the icon became available.

Confidently, he typed into the search engine 'friendship bonds'.

He clicked onto the first link that came up without bothering to check what it was and was rewarded for his impatience with… quotes about friendship?

Okay, maybe the first result was always a dud.

Clicking back to the search page, he pursued the links a little more carefully. There were plenty more quotes, articles on how to be a good friend (he bookmarked some of these for later), and even a few quizzes, but nothing about actual friendship bonds.

Undeterred, he tried a different search. And then another. Each one yielded slightly different results but none were even remotely close to what he was looking for.

He gave up after his fifth attempt, deciding his phrasing was incorrect. No matter, he had access to eons worth of knowledge. It would take longer to peruse his archives, certainly, but this was not something he could simply ignore. Still though, he wanted answers quickly. Patience was absolutely not one of his virtues - not that he was all that virtuous to begin with.

Shutting the laptop down, he returned it and its charger to the desk drawer. It was getting late now, the golden beams of early morning light becoming pale as the sun arched high above the penthouse. He would have to leave for the precinct soon or end up dealing with traffic.

Refilling his flask on the way out, he took the elevator downstairs to the bar. Maze was already up, a rare sight. She barely looked up from where she was pouring herself a healthy glass of whiskey.

Bringing the glass to her lips, she drained it dry before acknowledging him. "I heard you kick everyone out earlier."

Maze's rooms were located on the floor below the penthouse and as such, she usually heard everything that transpired above her. Lucifer had never minded much. The two of them had shared practically everything while in Hell. If anything, it was the separation of floors now that was more bizarre to them.

"I did." He said, reaching over to snag the whiskey bottle and pouring himself some into her abandoned glass.

Maze smirked, elbows leaning on the bartop. "Oh? What happened?" She feigned an exaggerated look of shock, scarred brow raising ridiculously high. "Please tell me someone didn't touch your designer nail clippers. That would be a tragedy."

"I do not own designer nail clippers," he growled.

Actually, he did not own nail clippers at all. They were a dangerous device - cutting his nails all ragged. It was much safer to pay someone else to do it for him. But Mazikeen did not need to know such a thing.

"Designer hair brush?" She asked, pleased with his irritation.

He ignored her question. "If anyone comes back for their missing possessions, let them upstairs. And I want the penthouse cleaned before I return later. Call the usual company, I'll pay extra for the short notice."

"And in the meantime?" She asked, chin resting on her hand.

"If you need to contact me, I'll be at the precinct. You can be patched through to the Detective." He said, finishing off the rest of his glass.

Maze rolled her eyes. "Seriously, when are you going to get a cell phone? Even I have one."

"Having a cell phone would kill the spontaneity of the day." He said, making to leave. "Humans would be calling at all hours looking for favors."

"You just don't want your one night stands to know how to contact you!" She called at his retreating back.

Well yeah, that was true too. It was bad enough when people he slept with hung around Lux all mopey, waiting for him to give them attention. They were severe mood killers. He liked a little variety; sleep with the same person too often and the fun was lost. Of course, there were a few special people he liked to keep close but they had no need to contact him. All they had to do was simply show up in his penthouse and he was theirs for the evening.

The ride to the precinct was about as much fun as could be expected, the lunchtime traffic not allowing him to drive at his usual speed - somewhere twenty miles above whatever the speed limit happened to be. He really had to stop leaving Lux so late, while he was stuck on the highway, the Detective was probably doing something interesting without him.

When he did finally arrive at the precinct, his favorite spot was taken. Actually, the parking lot was rather full, the excess of cars spilling out of the visitors' section and into the areas reserved for officers. He ended up in a spot on the top level of the parking garage, a place he usually avoided. The merciless California sun was sure to fade his leather interior. Regretfully, he put the top up, hoping to protect the convertible. The car no longer looked nearly as sleek as he liked but it was a small price to pay.

Entering the precinct, he stopped at the coffee counter in the atrium. A few people were in line and he waited impatiently for his turn, checking his pocket watch every so often. After he collected Chloe's usual order - and a cup of black coffee for Dan - he took the elevator to the Homicide Department's floor.

Stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the bullpen, he realized why there had been so many cars in the parking lot.

No less than forty people were gathered around Chloe's desk. Most of them looked young, early twenties at most, but a few older gentlemen were interspersed amongst them and he remembered Chloe saying something yesterday about wanting to question the college soccer team Anthony Stone had played on.

Striding down the stairs, he moved through the group, styrofoam coffee cups held high so as to avoid spillage. He knocked into a few people, who turned to glare at him. Their expressions went curiously slack as they caught sight of him however, a dozen pair of eyes now focused on his form instead of Dan, who was at the head of the group trying to instill some sort of order.

"We know everyone here has things they need to return to so we'll make this quick alright?" Dan said from where he was… standing on a chair?

"Daniel, whatever are you doing?" Lucifer asked, breaking through the throng to address the disheveled looking man.

The detective rolled his eyes. "Nice of you to show up," he said dryly.

Really? He was the unprofessional one? As least he wasn't standing on furniture like a child.

"I was entertaining. A good host always ensures his guests are looked after." He thrust one of the coffee cups at Dan.

"You mean your party only just ended?" He asked, taking the coffee cup gratefully and taking a massive swallow.

"Not the party, the orgy I had after - Hey!" Lucifer jerked back as Dan choked on his coffee and spit it out onto the floor. "This is Prada, Daniel! Do watch where you spray." He checked himself for even the smallest possible stain. He was quite fond of this particular ensemble.

Dan climbed off his chair shakily, tomato red as he coughed harshly into the crook of his elbow. "What the fuck, man?" He managed to gasp out from his heaving chest.

"Language," Lucifer admonished. "Really, you're acting all sorts of unprofessional today. Wherever is the Detective? She's always at the ready to lecture me about 'behavior unbecoming a member of the LAPD'." He said in a terrible, high pitched imitation of his partner.

"I do not sound like that." Someone said and he turned to find Chloe herself standing before him, arms crossed and teeth grinding.

"Detective!" He said, sauntering to her side and holding out the coffee he had bought her. "For you."

He expected for her to take it with a quiet 'thank you' and a smile like she usually did. Instead, Chloe's gaze switched rapidly between the cup in his grasp and his face. Her eyes widened, a blush sweeping across her features, made all the more obvious against her pale complexion. Instead of accepting his gift, she took a step back, surveying the crowd and her still sputtering husband.

"If everyone would please wait over in that hall," she pointed to where a small lounge was set up for people waiting to be questioned, "we can begin."

As the group complied, muttering to themselves, Chloe turned her attention to Dan, who was no longer dying - though he was still an interesting shade of red.

Lucifer did not hear what they said, staring down uncomprehendingly at the coffee he was still holding out like an idiot. He looked up at Chloe, unsure of what was wrong, but her attention was completely absorbed by Dan.

He looked down at the cup again, not sure what else to do. Every time he brought Chloe a coffee, even if she was mad at him for something or other, she would accept it. He knew the order was right, the size. It was even in a styrofoam cup because he knew she did not like the cardboard-like cups - something about them being too hot to hold.

Maybe she did not want the coffee. Maybe she hated coffee actually and had only accepted it from him every single day for the past two months because she was too polite to say no.

Just because he liked the drink did not mean other people did too. It always made him happy when someone brought him one though, he had just wanted to share that pleasant feeling of being remembered. But Chloe did not need that. She had plenty of people in and around the department who spoke to her everyday, people who made plans to see her outside of work at some of the cop bars or at a diner after a late night of work. A cup of coffee must seem so mundane to her, so thoroughly commonplace that it probably did not even register with her.

A wave of shame, bitter as bile and tinged with the ghost of hurt, rose in the back of his throat, washing away the giddiness from earlier. How pathetic was he, getting happy over a simple cup of coffee?

He chanced one last look at Chloe, hoping it was all a misunderstanding, but was shocked to find she was gone. The light over the door of interrogation room one was on, meaning she had already started questioning the soccer team.

Without him.

Abruptly, he tossed the full coffee cup into the trash. Dan's forgotten cup was resting on the edge of Chloe's desk and he threw it into the trash can as well. Liquid leaked out, filling the plastic bag. Whoever took care of the trash later was going to be mightily unhappy but Lucifer could not scrounge up even an ounce of pity.

All the insecurities he had felt yesterday about his new friendship with Chloe came bubbling back to the surface. Despite how adamantly she had claimed they were still friends, he simply could not shake the doubts. They laid just below the surface, stirred by even the slightest sign all was not well.

He really wished he had bothered to read those articles about how to be a good friend because once again, it appeared he had royally fucked up.

Bone deep weariness swept through him and he collapsed gracelessly into Chloe's chair, unwilling to maintain pretenses any longer. It was not the sort of tiredness that came with staying up too late or working hard. It was an exhaustion which left his head feeling heavy and made his eyes hurt every time he blinked.

He could sleep for a day and not feel relief, no amount of rest able to replace the strength he had lost. Because the feeling did not stem from one single incident, one day.

He was tired of the world.

He was tired of those brief glimmers of hope that were snatched away. The constant worrying and hours spent trying to understand. The constant emotional turmoil which left him adrift in his own head.

There was no one to share with. Maze, close as she was, was a demon and thus nearly incapable of understanding what he was feeling. She would try of course, do anything for him, but she knew no more of these human experiences than he did. What was the point in burdening them both?

A sudden need coiled in his gut, the need to touch, to feel. It was not sexual contact he craved but a handshake or a hug or just a pat on the back. Something. Anything.

But even as his body yearned for it, his mind flinched, remembering all the violent touches he had endured. Remembering the bruising grips of his brothers and slashes of demon claws. Remembering Michael dragging him victoriously by his hair through the Silver City to his Father. Remembering Gabriel helping with the binding of his wings so he could fall. He had pleaded and twisted, trying to escape but all he had received for his troubles were more blows, more kicks.

Compulsively, he rubbed his arms, the warmth of his palms seeping through his suit. It did little to help, like trying to scratch an itch with a piece of paper, but the marginal relief grounded him. He felt like an addict, craving something he loathed. Every hug he had ever received had been against his will so why now did he feel like he might suffocate without one?

"Lucifer?" An uncertain voice asked.

His tired gaze flickered up to where Daniel stood over him, brows knitted together.

"Yes?" He asked, stilling his hands.

"Um… Chloe's waiting for you in interrogation room one." He offered, eyeing the taller man nervously.

"I am aware of where she is." He said flatly but rose to his feet anyway, making the long trek across the bullpen.

Dan kept at his heels, an anxious shadow which Lucifer could really do without. It was a relief when he reached the door and the two of them went their separate ways, Dan taking the entrance to the viewing room on the other side of the two way mirror.

Pulling open the door without preamble, Lucifer sauntered in with as much flair as he could muster and looked around disinterestedly. Chloe was speaking to who he assumed to be one of the young men on the soccer team but both looked up at his entrance.

"Oh hey Lucifer, I didn't know where you got off to." Chloe shuffled her chair over to make room for him. "I had to start without you but you didn't miss anything."

She still refused to look directly at him.

He knew that tactic. How often had his Father berated him while refusing to grace him with so much as a glance? As if he were so disappointing, so insignificant, he was unsightly somehow.

Self consciously, he took the empty seat by Chloe's side, trying to catch her eye. She was focused on whoever the hell they were interviewing however. He could almost explain her sudden inability to look at him as stemming from her need to focus on the interrogation if not for how rigid she had gone.

The interviews passed in a blur, none of the people questioned offering any insight into their case. Many said Anthony had been a relatively private person. Most had not even known he had a girlfriend.

Lucifer stopped listening after person number sixteen, realizing the futility of their efforts. Every time he asked about desires, all he got were pathetic stories of wanting to become professional soccer players. Was that all athletes thought about?

If Chloe noticed his lapse in attention, and normally he never would have gotten away with it for so long, she did not comment. In the end, Dan tapped him out, sometime around interviewee number twenty-six. He had come in all apologetic, suggesting he take over for a bit as they had been at it for over two hours already.

Lucifer jumped at the opportunity, escaping as casually as he could from the small room.

The bullpen was far more active than it had been earlier. People were walking around, phones ringing incessantly. He instinctively headed for Chloe's desk but veered away at the last moment, ending up at Daniel's instead.

And now he was at a loss as to what to do.

In the end, he escaped outside. Sitting on the low wall of the top floor of the parking garage, he chain smoked listlessly, watching his absurdly large shadow move along the ground. The nicotine seemed to be hitting him harder than usual, allowing him to slip into a more relaxed state. If this were a new side effect from his loss of invulnerability, he had no complaints. By his sixth cigarette, he had to sit on the ground for fear of losing his balance on the wall and plummeting the four stories to the ground below.

It was not until his pack was empty that he decided to return inside. Surely the interviews were over by this point.

And if not, well, he still had to learn Pencil Skirt's real name. A rear like hers was something special, a national treasure.

He pulled out his hip flask as he rode the elevator back, trying to wash away the sour taste left in his mouth from the cigarettes. The action drew odd looks from the other people riding with him but no one said anything, quickly averting their gaze when he caught them staring. He offered them a patronizing smirk and boldly took another swallow.

Everyone hurried out the moment the doors opened. Lucifer wanted to laugh at the behavior. It reminded him of some of the weaker demons of Hell. The mere sight of him had been enough to send their lithe forms into terrible tremors, grotesque features twisted by fear. Feeling emboldened by the discomfort brought on by his drinking, he stepped off the lift and took another swig.

The light above the door to interrogation room one was off, meaning Chloe and Dan had finished the interviews. The two detectives were now sitting together, reading over what looked like their notes.

Well it appeared his presence was once again unnecessary.

Making a right at the bottom of the stairs, he skirted past Monroe's office and wandered down the hall that branched off to evidence. This was where he had seen Pencil Skirt disappear off to last time. He was fairly confident she was not a detective or one of the forensics personnel. Most likely, she was one of the secretaries who catalogued evidence.

He followed the hallway until he reached a point where it widened. Three desks were set up behind a counter, though only one was occupied at the moment.

"Hello Martha," he said, striding over to the sole occupant.

The woman looked up from her computer, smiling. "Oh hello Lucifer! What brings you here, something for Detective Decker?"

Martha was one of a rapidly dwindling list of people he had not slept with yet. He intended to get around to her sometime near Christmas, if he kept to his current schedule that was.

"Not today. I'm on a bit of a mission actually." He leaned his arms on the counter that sectioned off the office space. "The other ladies that work with you, is one of them a brunette by chance?"

If anyone else had asked that question, he knew Martha would have been insulted. But his charm did more than just draw people to him. It made them more easy going in his presence, less likely to become antagonized.

"Oh you mean Jennifer? She's only been here a few weeks." Martha said, looking behind her to one of the empty desks. "She just went on an errand but she should be back in a few minutes if you want to wait."

He was in no hurry. Taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs set against the far wall, he crossed his legs and waited.

"So Martha, how are you enjoying yourself?" He asked, wanting to pass the time.

"Oh you know, the work never ends. The second I have something catalogued, a detective wants the evidence removed again and the whole process starts over." She frowned to herself. "Actually, aren't you in the middle of a case? Detective Espinoza mentioned something yesterday about working with you and Detective Decker."

Lucifer shrugged. "My expertise is best utilized after we have a suspect."

"Sounds like someone hates research and paperwork." Martha said slyly and Lucifer grinned.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do most of the work at Lux." He said. "Actually, you should drop by one night. Bring some friends and make it a celebration."

"And what would I be celebrating?" She abandoned her computer, turning to face him fully.

He found the flirting to be comforting. Emotions were difficult for him. They required far too much thinking and introspection. This though, came naturally.

"Whatever you desire." And he wondered if perhaps he should wait another day for this Jennifer. Martha seemed raring to go. They could duck into one of the storage rooms and-

His thoughts were broken by the clicking of heels against the linoleum floor.

"Sorry I took so long Martha, Detective Spizer mixed up something in his reports and I…" The new arrival trailed off the moment her gaze found Lucifer.

Martha noticed but did not seem perturbed. She knew the effect the club owner had on people, having just fallen into it a few minutes ago herself. "Jennifer, this is Lucifer Morningstar, one of our consultants. He wanted to speak with you." She wordlessly took the files from the other woman's lax grip.

Lucifer grinned, rising fluidly to his feet. "Hello Jennifer." He extended his hand. "Martha tells me you're new."

She nodded, her much smaller hand almost disappearing in his grip. "Um, yeah. It's nice to meet you."

He released her hand, noticing how she almost followed him, wanting to maintain contact. The initial surprise had worn off and he watched, amused, as she looked him up and down unabashedly.

"Would you like a drink?" He offered. "It's nearly your lunch break."

Jennifer nodded enthusiastically and the two of them walked back in the direction of the bullpen, walking side by side. Once they were out of sight of Martha, Lucifer stopped.

Jennifer followed suit, looking to him questioningly. "Is something wrong?"

"No dear." He said, reaching into his inner pocket and withdrawing his flask.

Jennifer caught on immediately. She took the offered flask, taking a sip and handing it back to him, her body now much closer than before.

Lucifer eyed her appreciatively. He had suspected she would want to eat before the 'show' but she seemed to be ready now - not that he was complaining. This was working out superbly. He never had managed to burn off the giddyness from earlier.

The rooms off the hallway were used for storage, mainly housing old files and cold cases. He checked one of the doors, delighted to find it unlocked. Pushing it open, he peered inside the room curiously.

It was dark but he could still make out the row of rusty filing cabinets filling most of the space. A few desks and chairs had been shoved in as well, piled haphazardly in the corner. Nothing looked like it had been touched in a few years.

Perfect.

Jennifer was just behind him as he entered fully, the door closing behind her. He heard her fiddle with the lock on the doorknob as he continued his exploration.

The only source of light was a small window near the ceiling, the weak beams revealing the dust particles drifting around lazily. This kind of set up would never be his first choice for this sort of thing. He liked his sexual encounters to have a bit of flair. Shagging in a closet was something the young and inexperienced did as far as he was concerned.

It would have to do though.

Jennifer was by his side again, her heels making them nearly the same height. In the poor lighting, he could still discern the spark of excitement that made her eyes nearly glow.

"Are you sure you desire this, love?" He asked gently, not wanting her to feel forced into something.

She answered by crashing her mouth into his. His hands instinctively wrapped around her upper arms, keeping them both balanced.

There was no gentleness in their touches, nothing that could be construed as intimacy. It was fast and dirty, just as Lucifer preferred it. Clothes were shoved out of the way instead of fully removed, skin scraping against the rough edges of the filing cabinets as they danced around the room.

And Lucifer wondered why he had ever let Chloe's words about love get into his head. This was how it was supposed to be, fun and without commitment.

After all, people would always let you down in the end.

* * *

Every few seconds, Chloe looked down at the coffee cups in her trash can. And every time, her stomach sank a little more.

Dan had left a while ago once they finished comparing notes. The soccer team had not managed to give them much unfortunately. Their last hope was Anthony's girlfriend, who Dan had left to track down.

And Lucifer? She had not seen him in hours.

Her gaze fell to the coffee cups again. The liquid had long turned cold, absorbing into the cardboard cups and turning them brown and soggy. But the scent remained, curling around her work space.

She could blame her actions - or lack thereof - on the fact she had not slept well. Or that she had been at the precinct since dawn. The stress of the case was another excuse she could use. Or even the simple fact that she had not been in the mood for coffee.

But they were all lies.

She had overreacted, that much was obvious. Last night's kiss had been bouncing around in her head for hours, working her into a state. She had spent the whole morning worrying about what she would say to Lucifer, what he would say to her.

By the time he had shown up, offering her a coffee with that toothy smile, it had been too much. She had been afraid he was going to say something about the kiss or maybe nothing at all.

She was not sure what would have been worse.

Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment. But when she did, all she could picture were uncertain brown eyes. It wasn't right. A man as confident as Lucifer should never look that way. But yet again, she had caused it.

Only two days since she had said they were friends and everything seemed to be falling apart. She tried to be so careful about what she said and she knew Lucifer was scrutinizing her every action. No matter what he said, she knew he did not truly believe they were friends. He was waiting for her to walk away, to decide he was not worth the effort. All last night at Lux, he had constantly checked up on her. It spoke volumes about how turbulent his upbringing must have been if his trust issues ran that deep.

Lost in thought, she did not immediately realize that the source of her misery was striding across the room. When her brain and eyes finally made the connection, she rose from her seat.

"Lucifer!" She yelled, not caring that a good portion of the room looked at her with interest.

Lucifer froze, like he was contemplating whether or not to ignore her. When he turned and moved to her desk, she saw hesitation written in every stiff step he took.

He did not look quite right and as he drew closer, she realized why.

His hair was rumpled, pieces sticking up from his skull like little mountains and he was flushed. It was a look she was accustomed to seeing, just not from him. Had he seriously been having sex here in the precinct? She had been worrying herself over the coffee incident but it appeared he could have cared less.

"Where have you been?" She asked, forcing her tone to remain even.

He caught on immediately, hands in his pockets as he surveyed her. "Around." He said dismissively.

"We're working a case, you can't just disappear." The maternal part of her could not help but lecture him.

"Daniel said he would take over. Interrogation is my specialty Detective, not note taking."

His casual stance was rubbing her the wrong way and it was all she could do to not snap. Arguing would solve nothing, one of them had to be the adult.

"Yes but after." She said. "We had to compare what we noticed about every single person we talked to."

"I know." He said and something dark lurked in his tone that immediately made her wary. "I saw the two of you going over your notes. It didn't look like you needed any help so I distracted myself."

"By sleeping with someone in the fucking precinct?" Okay, maybe she could have been less harsh.

But to her dismay, Lucifer smiled.

"Of course Detective. I'm the Devil remember?" He ran his bandaged hand through his hair which only ruffled it more.

She looked down, wanting to hide the anger she was certain was flashing all over her face like a billboard. As she did so, she again saw the coffee cups and the irritation drained away.

"Lucifer," she said quietly, looking back to him. "I'm sorry about the coffee. I was being stupid and it… it wasn't a reflection on you okay?"

His smile became forced, the warmth in his eyes snuffed out abruptly. "You don't need to apologize, it should hardly matter."

She knew it did though and it hurt her to see him deny that.

"It does matter." She argued gently, not wanting to rile him up.

He snorted, the picture of brooding. "What idiot cares about coffee?" He muttered more to himself than to her.

"I do." She said. At his surprised look, she continued, "You're the only person who ever gets my order right. I've worked with some of these people for over eight years and not once has anyone remembered my order. But you do. I never even told you what I liked but you found out for yourself. So yeah, I care about coffee. And if that makes me an idiot, well, I've been called worse over less."

Lucifer looked abashed, fidgeting with his cufflinks and staring at the floor. "Detective, I apologize. I in no way meant to insult you."

"And I didn't mean to hurt your feelings by not accepting the coffee." She wanted to make sure he understood that.

But now another issue was bothering her.

Only yesterday Lucifer had had a near meltdown about sex and today he was back at it like nothing happened? His accusation about her tricking him with her talk about love rang in her ears.

She wanted to ask him who it was, who he had allowed to gain at his expense, but she doubted he would give her a straight answer. For all his talk about always telling the truth, he was a master of manipulating a conversation and never giving a straight answer.

While she had been lost in thought, Lucifer had partially turned away to face the rest of the room as something caught his attention. Once again, Chloe was reminded how accurate she had been comparing him to a cat. All that was missing was the twitching tail.

And speaking of tails…

The tag of his shirt was sticking straight up from his collar, waving merrily to her.

She also told him so, knowing he would be bothered by it otherwise, but cut herself off. Her plan to assimilate him to more intimate contact had not gotten off the ground yet. Dan's revelation about Lucifer's reaction to having his hand bandaged had made her wary over how to proceed. Maybe she was overthinking it though.

Coming around the desk, she reached up. "Here, your tag is sticking out."

Her fingers slid around the tag, the warmth of his neck pleasant against her skin. She did not linger however, simply sticking the offending bit of fabric back where it belonged and stepping back in case he jolted.

His head snapped around, hand coming up to cup the back of his neck. Wide eyes stared at her but Chloe ignored him, returning to her desk as if nothing odd had happened. She wondered if that was how she had looked last night after he had kissed her cheek.

"Detective?" He said uncertainly, still rubbing the back of his neck.

"If you're interested in hearing about the case, we didn't get anything of use from the soccer team. None of them seemed to know Anthony all that well, coaches included."

Lucifer still looked a bit dazed but dropped into his customary seat, not bothering to hide the way he still intensely stared at her. The attention was starting to make Chloe uncomfortable. Had she overstepped?

She should have waited, it was too early for this. Of course he was acting like she had sprouted feathers and started clucking.

"Detective," he said again, It seemed to be the only word he was capable of forming.

Case. Focus on the case. Work was easy, safe ground for both of them.

"Whatever happened to Anthony, I doubt it had anything to do with soccer." She waited for Lucifer to add something. If he was quiet for much longer, she might panic.

Fortunately, even severely unbalanced, her partner could never stay silent for long.

"Are you sure it wasn't a jealous teammate?" He asked. "Anthony was twenty-six and playing a college sport. Someone must have lost their position on the team to him."

"That was the first thing I asked the coaches about. They were adamant that no one cared about Anthony's age. A few of the other players were just as he was."

Lucifer nodded. "Did you ever figure out why he wasn't wearing his own clothes when he was found?" He asked suddenly.

What?

"His own clothes?" She repeated, wondering what he was on about.

"The clothes he was found in were all off brand. The Stones are quite wealthy. So why would their son parade around like a pauper?"

"Style?" She offered.

Lucifer shrugged. "Maybe. But the fellow was trying to turn his life around."

Chloe flipped through the file they had on Anthony, turning to the crime scene photos. Lucifer did have a point. Anthony had been dressed in badly worn sneakers, jeans that were a few inches too short, and a jacket that had lost its shape it was so old.

She remembered the Stones, both grieving yet still well groomed. It was a stretch though. She would have to show the clothes to the Stones for identification before jumping to any conclusions.

"Not everyone dresses like their parents." Chloe said. "But you're right, something about this is off."

Lucifer looked pleased by the spartan praise. "Of course I'm right."

Oh he was lucky he had his looks. It helped balance out his disgustingly bloated ego.

"Riiiight." She drawled just as the phone on her desk began to ring. Picking up the receiver, she said, "LAPD, Detective Decker speaking."

"Is Lucifer there?" A rough female voice asked.

Chloe frowned. "Who is this?"

For a moment all she heard was labored breathing. Then the voice snarled, "It's Maze! Just put him on."

She handed the phone to Lucifer, "It's Maze. It sounds urgent."

Lucifer looked perplexed. "Mazikeen?"

Chloe could not hear what the response was but it was definitely not good judging by the way Lucifer's features swapped from alarm to fury and back again as he rose to his feet.

"Are you okay? Did he hurt you?" And his tone was so cold it nearly cut her.

Maze said something else and for a wild moment she swore Lucifer's eyes turned red.

"I will be there shortly, do not do anything rash in the meantime." He said, hanging up with enough force to make the desk shake.

The desk was not the only thing shaking though. Lucifer was wracked by trembles but he was not afraid. No, it was pure rage the likes of which Chloe had never witnessed. He looked wild, like a wolf caught in a trap.

She took a cautious step forward, intending to do… something. Lucifer whirled to face her and she faltered at his expression.

"Unfortunately, I will be taking off the rest of today." He said curtly. "I have to handle something at Lux."

"Lucifer what happened?" She asked, reaching for her jacket and preparing to go with him.

He looked ready to kill someone and she knew he had the strength to do it. She remembered Barnes, driven insane and the football player case when he had thrown a grown man through a window like it was nothing.

"Apparently my brother made an unwelcome visit to my home and was not happy when Maze asked him to leave." He noticed her shrugging on her jacket. "Detective, this isn't something you should be involved in."

That stopped her cold. What was he admitting to? What was he going to do?

"Lucifer," she began but he was gone, ridiculously long stride carrying him to the stairs in moments.

She watched h disappear into the elevator, biting her lip nervously. Picking up her phone, amazed Lucifer's rough treatment had not broken it, she dialed Dan.

"Hello?" He answered after the first ring.

"Dan, that brother you saw Lucifer have an altercation with, would you call him dangerous?" She did not even bother to greet him, too caught up in fear.

The line crackled like Dan was readjusting the phone. "He was threatening to force Lucifer home and Lucifer definitely believed he was capable of doing so. Why, what's going on?"

That was all the answer she needed. With a hasty goodbye, she hung up.

Something bad was going to happen, she could feel it.

And she felt so torn because going after Lucifer could end with her being reprimanded again, or worse. She had responsibilities as a detective, not for herself but for the case she was working. A couple had just lost their child and deserved justice. Sinking back into her chair, she picked up her files and went through her notes again. She would check on Lucifer the moment she got out of work. Trixie's sitter would not mind if she was an hour late.

But knowing she would see him soon did little to ease her worry. The bruise he had received a few days ago was only beginning to fade and he was going to enter into another 'conversation' with this brother.


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N - So this chapter is twice as long as usual, which I hope makes up for the long wait. Huge thank you to everyone who sent me song suggestions. Not only is it helping with the writing but I've also discovered some new bands as well. _

_Special thank you to the-darker-side-of-things, freyanoyes1, Nymiir, Sapphire's Ink, Cathy Sullins, Laetitia-chan, jh831, Dobby and Padfoot, and NB132. It's your feedback and encouragement that keeps this story going. When writer's block hits, I can always read your reviews and pull myself out again._

_I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Nine - Colors**

Lucifer noticed little of the drive to Lux. The scenery he passed held no meaning, his unfocused gaze taking in nothing.

His foot rarely left the gas pedal, even when the cars ahead of him slowed. He jumped lanes and blew red lights, the convertible racing through traffic so fast it was as if the other cars were stationary. Horns could have been honking in protest but Lucifer could not hear them above the furious thoughts racing through his head.

How dare Amenadiel invade his home and hurt Maze? He knew his demon was injured though she had tried to hide it. How many battles had they fought together in those early days in Hell? The rough tone she had used, the way her breathing hitched, each sign had been another blade shoved between his ribs.

For the first time since cutting them off, he wished for his wings. It was taking too long to get home, the speed of the convertible not enough.

When Lux was in sight, he pulled onto the shoulder at the entrance, not able to wait a moment longer. Maze was a demon and there was nothing immortal about her. She could die from a stab wound just as any human. And for all the strength she held, Amenadiel was infinitely more powerful.

Wrenching open the doors, he hurtled inside.

"Mazikeen!" He yelled, pausing on the balcony to look at the club below.

The space was in ruins, furniture smashed and glass everywhere. His piano was absolutely destroyed, the keys scattered around the hulk of wood like white and black blood droplets. The display of alcohol was shattered, thousands of dollars worth of amber colored drink dripping onto the floor.

And huddled in front of the bar and surrounded by broken bar stools was his Maze.

He took the stairs three at a time, scrambling over the wreckage of his business to get to the broken form. It did not register with him that the sharp pieces of protruding wood and glass should be cutting into his flesh.

Clearing the mess, he fell to his knees beside Maze. Her eyes were closed. She was propped up against the bar, head dropping forwards and hands clasped across her gut.

"Maze," He gripped her shoulder, jostling her as he dropped to his knees. "Maze wake up!"

For ten terrible seconds, nothing changed and he felt his stomach roll as blind panic set in. He would not lose her. He couldn't. She was the strongest of the demons, his right hand for centuries.

She was so much more than that though.

Maze was the one who had found him after the fall, when grief and pain had left him so numb, all he could do was lie beside the hellfire. Instead of killing him, she had sat beside his paralyzed form and talked. Granted, most of what she had spewed had been mightily unpleasant descriptions of the havok she had sown amongst other demons but it had been the lifeline his broken mind had so desperately needed. Slowly, he had been able to drag himself from his stupor and piece himself back together.

Maze had been most surprised when he first attempted to rise. She had been certain he was going to die and had just been keeping him company because she wanted to witness what happened to divinity in Hell. He had laughed at her, too weary to string together a sentence.

So exhausted, heartbroken, and burned, Lucifer had risen from the ashes of Samael. Something about him bore familiarity to Maze and she had allowed him to lean against her, leading him to the center of Hell.

During the trip they never once shared a word, not that there was any reason to. Mazikeen had seen the fury, tasted the rage he oozed, and had decided he was special. Lucifer had merely been impressed to find a demon who did not just give in to mindless bloodlust.

As they passed other demons, most of whom eyed his wings hungrily, the hell creatures asked Maze if she had caught a fledgling angel.

Being referred to as angel had struck a nerve for him and he pushed off Maze, though the action cost nearly all his strength.

"I am Lucifer the Morningstar. I am your King."

None questioned his self proclaimed title. Instead the demons backed away, realizing he was something to fear. Exhausted, he had slumped against Maze and she brought him to what would be their home for eons, never to leave his side again…

He blinked back the memory, shoving his grief into that little box where he buried everything else. Maze would be furious if he fell apart like this over her. He could envision her look of disgust, the way she would play with her knives while lecturing him about how weak his emotional display was.

"I'm sorry to disappoint," he said softly, "but you're worth my grief."

"Pussy." She slurred back.

He jerked, unconsciously tightening his grip on her shoulder, causing her to hiss in pain.

"Maze?" He leaned forwards until they were nearly nose to nose.

Her dark eyes were dulled by pain but no less defiant. From so close, he could make out the faint sparks of Hellfire which lurked in her irises.

"Lucifer, what the fuck are you doing?" She asked, raising one hand weakly to push him away.

He rolled back onto his heels but refused to move from her, his knees brushing her thigh. "Are you alright?"

Maze snorted, the sound ending in a wheeze. "I'm fantastic." She spat, bristling at his concern. "Your damn brother was trying to kill me. Really, you should have been here."

He should have, hadn't he? Before joining Chloe on her investigations, he had spent a good portion of his time in the club or penthouse, not venturing out until dark. Amenadiel had probably come to Lux looking for him so they could continue their "talk" from before. Maze had paid the price for his absence.

"What happened?" He asked, climbing to his feet and looking around the room to assess the damage, though he could not bring himself to leave her side.

"I was just finishing a practice with the dancers when your brother showed up, looking for you. We fought and I underestimated the bastard," she said coldly. "He really did intend to kill me. I don't know what stopped him."

"Me." Lucifer kicked at a piece of wood that he was sure had once belonged to the DJ booth. "Amenadiel is a bit thick but he's not stupid. Killing you would have brought my full fury against him and that's the last thing he wants."

"Why not? Isn't that what he's looking for? A massive blowout between the two of you?"

Oh look, even the bloody floor tiles were broken. Honestly what had they fought with? Bazookas?

"If my dear brother wants me to return to Hell, he's going about it the wrong way." He needed a drink. Oh wait, all the alcohol was currently on the floor.

Splendid.

He looked back down to Maze who had not moved from her slumped position. Asking her how badly she was injured was a waste, she'd never give a real answer. Most of the blood staining her clothes was definitely hers but he could not discern any deep injuries. It figured. Amenadiel had never had the stones to finish the job.

"C'mon." He said, leaning down again and scooping her lithe frame up, bridal style, and pocketing her bloody demon blade. "Let's get you to bed."

"Put me down!" She snarled but the way she clung to his neck ruined the menacing affect. "We still have to go after Amenadiel. He deserves torture!"

"Trust me Maze, he'll be getting his punishment. Tonight actually." He used his elbow to call the elevator.

"I'm coming with you." She said defiantly. "We still haven't figured out what's happened to your invulnerability."

Lucifer shuffled sideways into the elevator when the doors open. Once again using his elbow, he stabbed the button for the eleventh floor and pressed in a code on the small screen below.

"I appreciate the offer Maze but you're in no state to go fight at the moment. Besides," his grip tightened, "I am not willing to risk you."

"But you'd risk yourself?" She challenged.

A pressure was building in his head from all the rage he was repressing, every heartbeat sending another throb coursing through his temple.

"Angels are already vulnerable to one another as you know. And even if Amenadiel did grow a pair and decided to kill me, I still have my pentecostal coin." He stepped out of the elevator, squinting to see.

Maze's rooms were, no surprise, predominantly black. A bit of sunlight peeked out from behind heavy drapes but it was woefully insufficient. Carefully, he picked his way across the room towards the large bed tucked in the corner.

"If you use your pentecostal coin, then we'll never be able to get home." Maze's nose wrinkled in distaste. "I cut your wings off remember? We'd be stuck here forever."

"Well then it's fortunate I was not planning on returning to Hell. Ever." He said shortly, depositing her on the bed. "Now I want you to rest while I deal with my wayward brother."

Maze struggled to sit up as he strode away. "You're being reckless! Listen, Amenadiel wanted me to turn on you. He was trying to weasel information out of me to manipulate you."

He laughed. "Of course he did. My siblings have never understood much of demons. They find you lot to be mere beasts. What did he offer you in exchange for an act of treason, hm?"

"A chance to go home." She said dully.

"Like I said, he has no concept of demons. Even you, born of blood and violence, would never betray me. We've spent eons together, ensuring Hell's functionality. Trading all that on the off chance an angel is telling the truth? Some of your species may be ignorant enough to fall for that rot but not you Mazikeen." As his back was turned, he failed to notice Maze's head drop in guilt. "Well I'll be off now. We can compare battle scars later." He promised as he stepped back into the elevator.

The moment the doors closed, his light hearted facade gave way to fury. He paced the small area restlessly, hands clenched at his sides. He had contained his anger for the sake of Maze, knowing she would not have allowed him to go alone if she saw how close to the edge he was. Now, his blood felt afire, heat wafting off his skin.

Amenadiel was going to pay for his transgressions. The hesitation over hurting his sibling had vanished the moment Maze had called him. He could almost forgive an attack launched on himself. Almost. He expected nothing less from his brother actually. But to come to his home and try to turn his most loyal supporter against him for information… Lucifer would not stand for it.

The Devil would not stand for it.

It seemed that Amenadiel had forgotten that it was once Lucifer who their Father had wielded as a weapon. Hell had only improved his abilities. How many demon insurgences had he put down in those early days? How many hours had he and Maze dueled to while away the endless hours? While his siblings had grown lazy, watching the humans run themselves, he had proved every single day why he was the King of Hell.

And it was time Amenadiel remembered that.

* * *

The Santa Monica Pier was an explosion of color during the summer. It drew a mixed collection of Los Angeles residents and tourists, children running amongst amusement park rides and food stalls with little fear despite the fact the only thing separating them from the ocean twenty feet below were brittle planks of sun bleached wood.

Lucifer despised it.

Cheesy atmosphere aside, he had never understood the draw of overpriced food or the rollercoaster. Some might find the ride entertaining but to him it looked like a death trap. The whole experience was loud and abrasive, the constant abuse of the senses bordering on psychedelic - and not the fun kind.

The season had drawn to a close several weeks ago though, most of the attractions shut down on weekdays. Without all the excitement, the pier was cold. The rides were ghostly sentinels, stretching up into a hazy sky. Trash littered the ground, the near constant wind off the ocean causing wrappers to flutter halfheartedly like birds with broken wings.

Lucifer was impassive to all this. From where he stood at the end of the pier, arms leaning against the railing, he watched the sky darken as the sun began its descent. The wind snatched the smoke from his lit cigarette, sending the thin trail to join the larger cloud of pollution that relentlessly plagued Los Angeles.

Far below him, the ocean sucked hungrily at the massive pylons holding the boardwalk up. The wooden pillars, discolored from years of exposure, stood fast against nature's onslaught.

It had always amused Lucifer to see how humans had re-engineered the world his Father had built for them. Give them a forest and they would cut it down. Create a river and they would irrigate until the ground grew dry and cracked. Make a mountain and they would poke holes in it for their roads.

He understood the progress, encouraged it even, but sometimes he wondered if the world was moving too quickly. Every visit he made to Earth had brought with it radical changes. It was as if he were visiting different planets entirely. In Hell (and maybe Heaven, he was no longer the expert there) billions of years could pass without the landscape changing. Monotony was hardly appealing either though.

Maybe something lay beyond it all. Beyond Heaven and Hell, far out in the cosmos. If such a place existed, he doubted he would ever see it. The invisible manacles which chained him would hold him here until the end of time.

His cigarette was nearly finished and he allowed the stub to fall from his lips, plummeting into the water below.

He had chosen this place to confront Amenadiel because of its secludedness. The beach sprawling on either side of the boardwalk was devoid of life, the colder night air driving away the last few surfers and families.

But the spot held special meaning for him too. If he stood where he was, eyes closed, he could almost pretend he was flying again. Not far from here was where Maze had cut his wings off, where all this had started…

He was stalling, allowing melancholy thoughts to postpone the inevitable fight he was about to enter. The anger that had burned so vibrantly in him earlier had settled into a bed of hot coals but the scorching heat remained.

Silently, he looked up to where the first few stars had appeared. The dull glimmers looked nothing like they had in Heaven. From so high, they had been massive, taking up the horizon and caressing the Silver City with light.

"Are you watching?" He asked of the Heavens.

There was no answer, not that he expected one anymore. Gone were the days of waiting for forgiveness or an end to the torment.

Were his siblings up there waiting to see how the battle would turn out? Surely they had been keeping tabs on Amenadiel, had seen his transgressions performed in the name of their Father.

Defiantly, he kept his gaze skyward as he brought his hands together in prayer…

"Lucifer. I knew you would call me."

Hearing his brother speak so calmly reignited the coals. He felt his eyes change to red, his body unable to contain the Hellfire that resided within him.

"Did you now? I wonder why?" He drawled, not turning to face Amenadiel yet. "A guilty conscience?"

The wooden planks of the pier creaked as Amenadiel ventured closer to his brother's rigid form. "What do I have to feel guilty for? My actions were born from your refusal to return to Hell. I have tried to be courteous though Father knows you don't deserve it."

"So the fault lies with me then?" He snorted. "How ironic. But you've always taken pleasure in blaming me for everything."

He finally turned to face Amenadiel, gripping the railing behind him. The metal pole groaned against the pressure he was exerting and he loosened his grip. It would not do well to lose his temper, though he knew he was dangerously close to doing so.

His brother was dressed in his usual Heavenly attire, charcoal wings flaring behind him. One of their lesser siblings would have cowed at the aggressive display - Uriel would most definitely have pissed himself - but Lucifer, even wingless, felt no fear. He knew how his strength stacked against Amenadiel's.

"The scars you left in Heaven have yet to fade. First your rebellion against Father weakened us and then Mom began to act irrationally."

Lucifer's lip curled in contempt. "Don't blame me for the shortcomings of others. I did not force our mother to wreak havoc on Father's creations. She did all that on her own." He took a step forward, ignoring how Amenadiel's feathers flared. "I don't make anyone do anything actually. All the sinning, all the discontent has nothing to do with me. I don't sit on shoulders and whisper for evil deeds to be carried out."

"It was because you were cast out that Father and Mother broke apart!" Amenadiel was quickly losing his own composure, much to Lucifer's delight.

"You've just contradicted yourself." He was looking for an opening, weight carried on the balls of his feet. It was a shame he was wearing something nice. His clothes would definitely not be surviving this encounter. "If it is my Fall that destroyed Heaven, then the blame lies with Dad for tossing me out in the first place."

"You gave him no choice!" Amenadiel thundered and all pretenses were lost to the murderous look on his face.

Lucifer was tiring of the conversation. Arguing about Heaven was not why he had called on his brother. Everything that could ever be said on the subject had already been spoken a thousand times.

"Choices, they're a valuable thing. And I really dislike when someone takes away mine."

Amenadiel seemed puzzled by his words, which was all the distraction Lucifer needed to dart forward and land a devastating blow to his brother's jaw.

His knuckles split from the impact, Amenadiel flying backwards ten feet before crashing in a mess of feathers.

"That was for the unsightly bruise you gave me last week." He said, striding forward and lashing out with his foot, kicking Amenadiel in the ribs. "And this is for hurting Mazikeen. She is not a pawn to be used."

The taste of violence with no need to hold himself back was like Heroin to his system. Stooping, he grasped Amenadiel's collar and hauled him up. Blood was dripping from the elder angel's newly split lip, landing thick and warm against his hands.

But to his surprise, Amenadiel was smiling. It was a red smile, blood tinging his teeth a pinkish hue. "Oh Luci, you've no idea how long I've waited for this moment."

Lucifer jerked backwards as Amenadiel twisted in his grip, narrowly avoiding the razor sharp wing aimed for his head. He released his hold on the other angel and ducked another attack, hastily putting a bit of distance between them. But Amenadiel followed his retreat, not giving him any space.

"Do you realize how many of our siblings wish they could be me right now?" Amenadiel continued to press forwards.

Lucifer grimaced. "Envy is a sin, brother."

The question struck a nerve though. He was certain at least some of his brothers and sisters were watching this fight. How many really were envious?

His lapse in attention cost him dearly. A hand grasped the back of his shirt collar - how had Amenadiel moved so quickly? - and suddenly he was soaring through the air. His back muscles contracted instinctively, trying to call forth wings which no longer existed. He crashed through a display window, shards of glass raining down on him.

Even if the impact did not injure him, he was still momentarily disoriented. Scrambling back to his feet, he shook the glass from his hair and vaulted back out onto the pier. Amenadiel was watching carefully.

Damn, if only he was not using his wings. Keeping track of two limbs was difficult enough. Four was near impossible…

"Stand down brother. You can't win this fight." Amenadiel said.

Oh he wouldn't? He'd love to test that theory.

And in a reckless move that Maze would kill him for later, he launched himself directly into the other angel's chest.

Amenadiel fell backwards and Lucifer rode him down, straddling his brother's chest and slamming his fists into any flesh he could reach. He felt a nose give under his knuckles, Amenadiel's head snapping back from the sheer force.

But the elder angel gathered his wits quickly and Lucifer was launched off him as the two massive wings beat back furiously. He landed catlike, a forearm coming up to block Amenadiel's next attack. The move left his midsection open however. He knew it was a mistake long before he felt a dull burning in his stomach.

Looking down, he watched as dagger-like feathers sliced through his shirt and midriff like butter. The cuts were narrow but blood was blossoming from them at an alarming rate. He swung again at Amenadiel but the move was clumsy and he was left stumbling forwards, off balance.

The kick he received to the knee was not unexpected but he fell all the same.

And then something hit his face.

And there was another kick, this time to the gut.

His vision blacked for a moment, whether from taking one hit too many to the head or blood running into his eyes, he was not altogether sure. Blinking rapidly, he found himself pinned on his stomach, a hand pressed into the small of his back.

"What are you waiting for brother?" Lucifer asked, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "This is what you wanted isn't it?"

Amenadiel pressed harder into his back and Lucifer felt panic rise. Would his brother snap his spine?

"What I want is for you to cease existing entirely!" Amenadiel roared. "Everything is your fault!"

Lucifer had heard it a thousand times from family, demons, humans. It was a constant chant that sometimes made rising from bed seem impossible. So often being blamed for evil made his very soul freeze.

But this time there was no cold.

No, all he felt was Hellfire singing through his veins.

He flung his elbow back, the answering grunt meaning he had caught Amenadiel in the face. The pressure holding him down vanished and he forced himself to his feet again. His eyes were red, he could feel it, but he felt no need to quell the reaction.

Instead, he came at the other angel with everything he had. Amenadiel managed a few hits at first but his raw strength was nothing compared to Lucifer's fury.

"Everything is my fault? The Devil made me do it?" He spat, spinning to dodge a wing and landing a deft kidney blow. "Evil existed long before I did!" He shoved Amenadiel into the railing, following up with an uppercut. "If I were who you truly thought I was," he grasped one of his brother's wings hard enough to feel the bones grate against one another, "I would rip one of your wings out of your back and leave you here!"

Amenadiel shied away but Lucifer refused to release his feathery prize.

"Or maybe I would cut open your sternum and let your guts spill out. It's bloody difficult to walk when you're tripping over your own intestines!" He laughed, crazed. "Or I could strangle you with them. Explain that to our dear siblings, how bad bad Lucifer squeezed the life out of you with your own organs!" Abruptly, he released Amenadiel, glowering scornfully. "But I won't do any of those things. Because I'm not the beast you believe me to be."

Amenadiel backed away, wings pinned protectively to his back. The rough treatment had done him no favors, several of his feathers had been pulled out and many more were crumpled or overlapping. He was a sight, blood oozing from a dozen cuts. Lucifer doubted he looked any better. His ribs ached and warm blood was soaking through his untucked shirt. Putting pressure on his right leg was nearly impossible, his knee quivering in protest.

"Lucifer, you must return to Hell." Amenadiel implored, leaning against a table unsteadily.

"Why brother, because you don't like ruling there?" He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his flask. The metal case was badly dented but was not leaking. "Do you honestly think it's any better for me?"

Amenadiel looked away, jaw jutted in frustration. Lucifer watched him for a moment but decided he posed no threat. Draining his flask, he turned his gaze upwards again.

More stars had appeared, the last few trails of purple dying in the sky. He knew the names of every single one, having crafted them all. He knew where there were holes, dying stars leaving behind gaps like a lost sequin on a dress.

And somewhere amongst all that light was Heaven.

"Do you suppose Father cares?" Lucifer asked.

Amenadiel glanced up. "Of course he does Luci."

"Hmm." He hummed and fell silent for a long moment before continuing. "If this is how He shows it, then I doubt He will interfere next time."

"Next time?"

Lucifer nodded, tucking bloody hands into his pockets. "Cross me again brother and I will kill you."

The threat hung heavily in the air. A stiff wind blew over the coast, bringing with it a chill.

"You'll kill me?" Amenadiel pushed himself back to his feet. "I'd like to see you try."

"I do not lie." He turned slowly to face the elder angel. "And I do not take kindly to others trying to force my hand. I'll make myself clear so I don't have a loophole." He limped forward. "If you try to return me to Hell. If you lay even a feather on Mazikeen. If you so much as whisper in my direction, I will kill you."

"You talk big but even if I die, I'll just return to Heaven." Amenadiel said smugly.

That look grated on every fiber of Lucifer's being. His threat was not being taken seriously. He was not being taken seriously.

"Then I'll kill you again." He said flatly, "and again and again. We have unlimited time brother. The end of the world will not be the end of us."

Most thought Lucifer had ruled Hell through violence and that was somewhat true, especially in those early days where insurgences had been as common as pimples on the face of a youth. But the fighting had died down eventually, the rebels made into examples and the time before his reign all but erased.

Then, it had been his coldness which kept the order.

The demons learned that there was no mercy in him, no kindness or forgiveness. He treated his subjects as his family had treated him, without love or chance of redemption. He could not be swayed by loyalty nor pity. The only way to avoid his ire in Hell had been to simply not induce it in the first place.

"Father would never allow such a thing. He has no love of bloodshed, even yours." Amenadiel was still arguing with him.

"He didn't interfere this time."

"Of course not. He's omnipotent, all seeing. He knew you wouldn't kill me."

"But what if I did." Lucifer murmured, more to himself.

His fingers curled around the blade in his pocket, the blade he had taken from Maze earlier. The metal surface was hot, as was all demon forged steel. He had been hesitant about using the weapon until now, a part of him too proud to admit he needed it.

He could test Amenadiel's theory right now, drive the blade into his chest and see if God smote him for it. Everyone always got their Father wrong. Just because He knew the outcomes to things did not mean He ever intended to interfere. He was a child who read the last page of a book first. Knowing all He did had not kept their fractured family together. It had not stopped Lucifer from escaping Hell and it certainly had no bearing now.

Yanking the blade free, he held it out for Amenadiel to inspect, pleasure driving away some of the pain as his brother flinched.

"Do you think He could stop me? The trip from Heaven to Earth is a long one, even for us. Do you think Michael could manage it? Or maybe Gabriel? He was built for speed, being the messenger and all."

"You wouldn't dare!"

And Lucifer had to hold back a laugh because how could his family ever comprehend the boundaries he would push? Their concept of free will was laughable.

"Do you suppose Mum would feel it in her cell? I've never tested how much of her divinity remains. I had other things to attend to besides her." He reversed his grip on the stained dagger, pointing it between Amenadiel's eyes. "That would imply she even cares about us anymore though so I wouldn't hold my breath."

Amenadiel was not even blinking, eyes fixed on the point of the blade hovering a mere ten inches from his face. His Heavenly robe was darkened with blood, wet patches staining both his clothes and wings.

"Lucifer, this isn't you!"

"You don't know a single thing about me." Slowly he lowered the blade, until it hung loosely at his side. "But I keep my word so there will be no more bloodshed. Not tonight at least. My promise about our next meeting, however, stands." He allowed his Devil face to flicker into existence, ignoring how Amenadiel flinched. "I will destroy you."

He could tell Amenadiel believed him this time if his sick expression was anything to go by. An hour ago, he would have been pleased at coming out the victor in this battle but now he was weary. Every second standing only increased the pain he felt, sharp and all consuming.

Bracing himself, Lucifer limped past his shell shocked brother, licking the blood off his split lip. He listened for the flap of wings that would signal Amenadiel's departure but never heard it. Good, maybe the prat was actually feeling guilty.

He stopped, swaying slightly. "Oh I almost forgot something."

Turning with speed his battered body should not have possessed, he lunged at Amenadiel, wrapping his hands in his clothes. Raising his brother, he tossed him over the railing with the last of his exhausted strength.

His body immediately screamed, almost as loud as Amenadiel did at the unexpected fall. Vision whiting out momentarily, he began to tremble violently.

"That was for trying to force Mazikeen to betray me!" He yelled down to the beach, where he could just make out Amenadiel's sprawled form.

Now satisfied, he guided himself with the railing, limping back towards the parking lot. Amenadiel would not be moving for quite some time, he was certain of that.

By the time he made it to his car, his vision was getting blurry and it was difficult for him to remain alert. Not caring about the convertible's interior, he dumped himself into the driver's seat. As he searched numbly for his keys, he caught sight of his face in the rear view mirror.

Even in the dim light of the partially concealed moon, he could make out the dark shapes of blood and bruises. A cut near his hairline was still weeping, blood dripping down the side of his face. He reached up, watching his reflection jab at the edge of jagged flesh. The jolt of pain he received was enough to ward off some of the fogginess in his head. Turning his key in the ignition, he drove out of the deserted parking lot and made for home.

For all the pain he felt, there was also peace. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he had bested Amenadiel. Maybe now he could continue his life on Earth uninterrupted.

He laughed bitterly at that. Who was he kidding? His Dad would never leave him in peace for long.

Still though, even if it were only a moment, he would take it.

* * *

Amenadiel watched as Lucifer disappeared from the railing high above. His entire body ached, not a bit of his flesh safe from the persistent throbs in sync with every breath he managed to suck in.

It had been eons since he had taken such devastating blows. Angels had not fought in Heaven since Lucifer's rebellion and even then, the fighting had primarily been between Lucifer himself and a few of their more aggressive siblings.

The blood dripping from his chin was warm and he shuddered. It felt like he was drooling, his lips heavy and numb from the punches he had taken. Raising an arm to wipe it off was beyond him at the moment, his body needing more time to get over its initial exhaustion.

The night had gone, essentially, how he had anticipated it would. He had known coming to Lux would be enough to push Lucifer over the edge. The added fury from damaging his demon had been unexpected though.

Amenadiel had visited Hell far more often than any of the other angels. Demons were a dime a dozen down there, the constant infighting hardly making a dent on the population of revolting beasts. He knew Lucifer was fond of Mazikeen but he had assumed it was because of her strength or her gifts in torture. Now, faced with the realization that his brother and the demon shared some kind of intimate relationship, he was positively revolted.

It also meant he had been going about getting Lucifer back to Hell in entirely the wrong fashion.

At first, he had hoped insults would be enough to drive his brother back to his kingdom. But Lucifer was not the same young angel he had once known and the harder he pushed, the more resilient his brother had become.

Violence had been the logical next step when words had failed but as tonight had shown, this approach was also insufficient.

Which was why Amenadiel was relieved he had put another plan into action earlier. His visit to Lux had had nothing to do with Lucifer himself. His interest had lain with Mazikeen. Her knowledge of his brother was far superior to any other being in this dimension and it had been easy to twist her the right way. A simple promise to take her back to Hell and she had turned on Lucifer immediately, telling him where he stored his severed wings and that his brother only had one pentecostal coin in his possession. They had bloodied each other up a bit, wrecking the club so as to avoid arousing Lucifer's suspicions.

Oddly enough, the demon had only protested once, when he had tried to destroy the piano. Realizing how important the instrument was to his brother, he had taken special pleasure in splintering it.

If not for all the problems Lucifer was causing, Amenadiel would almost feel bad for the younger angel. His most trusted advisor had sold him out without batting an eye.

A spasm overtook him, coughs wracking his already damaged frame.

He had not expected Lucifer to be so violent. During their last encounter, his brother had hardly even tried to hit him. He had expected much the same this time around, which was his own fault. Manipulations were Lucifer's forte after all.

As the coughs quieted and his chest unclenched, Amenadiel rolled onto his side and freed his trapped wings. One flapped half heartedly but the injured one remained flat on the ground. He did not push the appendage, content to give it a few hours to heal. Sunrise was far off, he could wait until then to leave the beach.

The severity of his injuries was throwing a wrench in his plans. He had hoped to find Lucifer's wings tonight and gift them to some human, one of those criminal ones who would never see Heaven's gates. News of freed divinity would spread quickly and it would be up to Lucifer to track them down.

Amenadiel was fairly confident that, no matter the outcome, Lucifer would return to Hell after reclaiming his wings. While fighting, he had felt how much weaker his brother had become, how the lack of divinity could not be replaced by mere Hellfire.

Divinity was as much a drug to angels as it was to humans. Angels whose wings were severely damaged were prone to violent panic attacks. In extreme cases, they could even go into the celestial equivalent of shock. Removing them entirely, it was unheard of.

Or it had been at least.

Even now, Amenadiel was not sure how Lucifer had survived the procedure. Just thinking about it made his back twitch, the urge to protect his own wings almost enough to make him fold them out of existence.

Angels cared more for their wings than any other part of their bodies. It was their connection to Heaven, to their Father. Even now, Amenadiel could feel the warmth of his divinity seeping through his wings. It promised safety and the love of his family. Without it, surely his soul would be snuffed out.

Lucifer may have had the strength to part from his wings once but Amenadiel doubted he would manage it a second time. Just the fact that the wings were not destroyed in the first place meant that the bond between them and Lucifer was still there.

Once Lucifer reclaimed his wings, it would be easy to maneuver him back into Hell. His brother was both selfish and vain. A few compliments, one or two reminders of the power he had, and Lucifer would go back. He was certain to make a fuss but there was little holding him to Earth. Especially once he found out Mazikeen had betrayed him, a fact Amenadiel had no intention of hiding.

Another coughing fit, gentler but no less painful, crippled him for a second time. His face had begun to itch, the dried blood pulling at his skin as his mouth twisted and his lungs heaved.

He needed to gather his strength so he could return to the apartment he had been using as a base while on Earth. From there, he would lay low for a bit and recover. Lucifer was in just as bad shape as he was, perhaps more so as he lacked his wings, so he was not worried about being attacked.

Closing his eyes, he allowed his consciousness to drift. The sound of the ocean rumbling was a backdrop which soothed him as he slowly dozed off.

* * *

Chloe internally cursed the rush hour traffic she found herself in. Normally the crawling pace did not aggravate her much but tonight she was on a mission. All afternoon she had been unable to focus, plagued by the image of Lucifer, back taut with fury and bloodlust in his eyes.

A thousand scenarios had raced through her head, her worry not alleviated by Dan in the slightest. From what he had said, Lucifer's brother was an extremely dangerous man.

She had spent her lunch hour again searching the police database for anything on Lucifer or his family. Not surprisingly, she had come up empty handed. Even Dan had helped this time around, calling in a few favors from old connections, but he too had nothing to show for all his work.

Chloe was beginning to wonder if they were going about this the wrong way. Lucifer's accent, to the best of her knowledge, did not sound fake. If he had grown up in the United Kingdom, then perhaps some information regarding his youth resided there. Those files were not available to her however. It would take months of lobbying for her to get what she was after and there were still no guarantees.

The other issue plaguing her was the fact that Lucifer's brother did not have a British accent. It was one of those details Dan had mentioned which at first seemed unimportant but was now, once again, ruining all her theories about her partner.

If Lucifer and his brother had come from different places, did that mean one or both were adopted? It could explain Lucifer's poor treatment at the hands of his parents but if he indeed had been placed with a new family, it must have happened later in his life or else he would not have the accent or mannerisms of a recent immigrant - at least, she assumed he had immigrated, there was no paperwork proving that either.

Unless it was the brother who was adopted by Lucifer's biological family and -

Frustrated, she banged her forehead against the steering wheel. There were too many holes in the fractured story, too many variables to account for. Every new bit of information she discovered somehow made the picture harder. She felt like she was doing a jigsaw puzzle, but half the pieces were missing and she had no idea what it was even supposed to look like completed.

She was coming up to Lux now, just one more turn. Lucifer was probably inside, playing the piano for his guests and drinking something expensive. She was sure he was in a terrible mood but being around a crowd was definitely a good distraction.

Now, she wasn't so sure why she was worried in the first place. Lucifer was far and away the strongest person she knew. No matter what was thrown his way, he took it all in stride. Even if he had entered into an altercation with his brother, what was the worst that could have happened? No calls had come into the station about any fights or disturbances. She would just pop into Lux for a bit, check up on him, and go home. There was still some leftover pizza in the fridge from last night. She could heat it up and watch a movie with Trixie…

Lux was dark.

She faltered on the gas, the car behind her honking impatiently, but she did not even react, too busy staring up at the club.

Not a single outdoor light was on, the LED lights at the entrance off as well. Coasting to a stop right outside the front of the building, she craned her neck to get a look up at the penthouse. It was hard to tell from her angle but again, there did not seem to be so much as a match lit inside.

Climbing out of her car, she looked around for the bouncer normally stationed at the door. The block was devoid of life however, no line waiting to get in, no young couples taking selfies of themselves outside. The red velvet rope which kept people queued was not even out.

Approaching the golden double doors, she pushed experimentally, expecting them to be locked. They yielded against her touch however, swinging open silently to reveal a void.

For the first time, she hesitated. This was not the Lux she knew. The life which throbbed through the building had been extinguished.

Newly awakened concern for Lucifer urged her forwards. With one last look around the street, she stepped into the darkness, familiar enough with the layout to guide herself.

To her relief, the club was not in complete darkness. A few dim lights were on and she followed the source gratefully to the balcony which overlooked the main room.

The relief turned sour in her gut as she took in the destruction.

Not a single piece of furniture had been spared. Bar stools were piles of kindlings, the bartop itself missing chunks of wood. And the piano, smashed almost beyond recognition, its black polished surface the only thing differentiating it from the table tops and chair legs cluttered around it.

Two people could not have caused this much damage. It looked like a gang war had descended on the club.

Where was Lucifer?

Another panicked look assured her that he was not among the debris, which just left the rest of the building. Unless someone had taken him. It would explain why the place was so thoroughly trashed.

She shook her head viciously, dispelling the thought. Until she had evidence proving otherwise, she had to operate as if Lucifer was still in the building, most likely injured.

Rushing to the elevator, she pushed impatiently on the up button. It took awhile for the elevator to descend, meaning at least one person was on an upper floor.

Squeezing between the doors before they fully opened, she double checked the gun at her hip and pressed the button for the second floor.

Nothing happened.

The doors closed but the elevator did not move. Confused, she pressed the button again harder. It was then she noticed the small screen under the buttons.

Was a code needed?

That was odd, she had never seen Lucifer use the keypad on the few occasions she had accompanied him to his penthouse. There wasn't time to dwell though.

Pressing each button rapidly, she was eventually rewarded as the elevator rumbled to life and began its ascend to the penthouse level. Of course the only floor that did not require a code was his apartment.

The ride was fast, giving her little time to think about what if's. A light ring sounded, meaning she had reached her destination. Pulling her gun free, she held it up and stepped out of the elevator.

The penthouse was as sterile as always, aside from a few drips glistening on the tiled floor. In the middle of the room, pacing in steady circles like cat waiting to fight, were Lucifer and Maze.

"Why would you attack without any weapons?" Maze nearly shouted, oblivious to the new arrival. "This is not the time to be reckless!"

Lucifer's back was to Chloe. "Spare me the lecture Maze. I took a calculated risk and it all worked out, mostly. I've ruined another suit." A bloody hand rested on the bar, steadying him. "You seem to be forgetting your place more and more though. Do not mistake my tolerance for permission to speak as you wish."

The reprimand did nothing to ease Maze's anger. "So what am I supposed to do, stand by while you risk your life?"

"I have never and will never doubt your abilities but there are some fights that you have no hope of ever winning. And in those instances, yes, I do expect you to stand idly by."

Maze looked away. "You care too much. It's going to get you killed one day."

"Perhaps, but as I said earlier, some things are worth the sacrifice." He sounded tired.

Chloe had not paid much attention to the conversation, relief at finding her partner alive leaving little room for anything else. Lowering her gun to her side, she said. "Oh thank God."

They whirled to face her, the move almost sending both of them crashing to the floor as they wobbled unsteadily.

The relief died in her throat, thick and gummy. Her eyes flashed from Lucifer's shaking legs to his left eye which had swollen completely shut. Blood covered his face, a large gash near his hairline still weeping.

But it was the sight of his shirt that made her tremble. The untucked white fabric was torn and saturated in so much blood it hung heavy from the weight. A few buttons were missing, giving her glimpses of long slices along his abdomen.

She knew what the drops on the floor were now.

Maze looked better, bruised skin free of any blood or cuts. She was equally shaky though, her six inch heels definitely doing her no favors.

"What - what happened?" Chloe gasped out, gun clattering uselessly to the floor. She took a step towards Lucifer but froze as Maze growled at her - a literal growl which no human vocal cords should have been able to produce.

Despite his state, Lucifer was quick to throw a hand up, shooting Maze a warning look over his shoulder. "Behave."

Chloe was sure Maze would disobey what was obviously an order but the leather clad woman surprised her by standing down. Her lethal gaze never left Chloe but she did not move from her spot near the leather armchairs.

Lucifer watched her a moment, before turning back to Chloe. "My apologies Detective. Everything is a little tense at the moment." He smiled at her in what he must have thought was his usual dazzling look. "What brings you here?"

For Chloe though, it was all too obvious how hard he was forcing himself to appear casual. His smile was strained, the edges of his lips threatening to downturn in a grimace. Blood stained his teeth and even as she watched, his barely scabbed over split lip cracked and fresh drops of blood began to form.

When she had accidentally shot him two week ago, she had wondered at his ability to change personalities to fit the situation. Now, seeing it again, watching him pretend nothing was amiss even as he swayed on shaky legs, she wanted to vomit.

"Detective, are you alright?" His smile vanished.

The question made her stomach ache. He was bleeding everywhere, most definitely in need of medical attention, and again all he seemed to care about was her.

Her mind was too scattered to formulate words but Maze had no such inhibitions.

"Are you serious?" She snapped. "You should be concerned about yourself, not this human!"

The skin around Lucifer's good eye tightened. "Mazikeen, you should rest."

The dismissal was clear but Maze was no longer interested in listening. Rounding the couch, she stormed up to Lucifer, catching him arm and wheeling him around. "You're going to dismiss me in favor of her?"

Lucifer jerked out of her grasp in irritation and Chloe noticed he did not seem as uncomfortable with her touch as he was with others.

"Jealousy is an unbecoming look Maze, even on you." He straightened his dirty shirt sleeve though his fingers shook so badly it was a wonder he could even grasp the fabric. "The Detective is not the one I found unconscious today but forgive my concern. Evidently, it has been misplaced."

"Lucifer," Maze said quietly, looking chastised under her anger but he did not spare her a glance as he indicated the elevator pointedly.

"Do whatever you wish."

This time the dismissal was far colder. Maze watched him uncertainly for a moment before steeling herself.

"Whatever, we'll talk about this later when you're prepared to be serious," she snapped and stalked to the elevator. "All of this is your fault anyway."

Chloe was fairly sure Maze had not intended for Lucifer to hear that last part but she knew he had as his figure drew taut. Thankfully, the elevator doors closed before anything more could be said.

Now it was just the two of them.

"As Maze is unlikely to ever apologize, I offer one in her stead. Her behavior of late has been quite combative, even by her standards." He chuckled humorlessly. "Care for a drink Detective?"

"No, and I don't think you should have one either." She said, coming up to his side and plucking a half filled bottle of something from his bloody grasp. "You shouldn't even be moving around, you need medical attention."

"Pass." He reached for the bottle expectantly but she refused to hand it over, eyeing him grimly. Sighing, he rolled his good eye. "I assure you Detective, medical attention is unnecessary. A shower and a few hours of sleep and I'll be fine"

Chloe sincerely doubted anything less than a week of bed rest could fix his bedraggled form. The more she looked, the more injuries she found. One of his ears was scraped raw as if it had been dragged against something rough but at least it was not bleeding. The same could not be said for his nose, from which twin trails of brownish dried blood met the fresher blood smeared from his cut lips.

His abdominal wound was worrying her the most though.

Despite the amount of blood from the injury, his intestines did not appear to have fallen out which was good at least.

God, what a morbid thought. A dizzy spell gripped her as she imagined swollen tubes of pinkish flesh spilling out from his shirt and coiling on the floor. Bile rose in the back of her throat and she forcibly swallowed back the acidic liquid. She had been trained to deal with trauma situations. Falling apart would not do anyone any good.

Gathering herself, she took a deep breath and grounded herself in facts, assessing Lucifer again, this time with a more clinical eye.

The abdominal cuts were the most pressing injury as they were bleeding the worst. Even if she could convince him to go to a hospital, she would need to stem the blood flow first or risk him going into hemorrhagic shock.

The amount of damage he had taken to the face and head worried her too. A concussion was possible. She zeroed in on the cut near his hairline. Stitches would be necessary, the injury was too large to simply bandage.

He was shaking too and not just from his right leg, which she noticed he was hardly putting any pressure on. The shivers had not let up since she had arrived. Was he going into shock? It was possible. Between the extensive injuries and the blood loss, she had no doubt Lucifer's body had reached its endurance limit.

Her assessments had taken only seconds but Lucifer had become even paler in that short span, sweat beading on his skin. The abrupt decline of his appearance jolted Chloe back into a time when she had been an officer responding to car accidents.

"Lucifer? I need you to sit down okay?" She said gently but imposing as much authority into the request as she could.

One brown eye met her but she could tell he was having trouble focusing. The concussion theory now seemed like a sure thing.

"Hey, you with me?" She wanted to touch him to regain his focus but hesitated, not sure what his reaction would be.

"'M here… Detective," he said slowly and shook his head, as if to physically ward off the fogginess she could see clearly behind his dazed look.

"Don't move your head." She reprimanded, still keeping her voice as soothing as possible. "Can you make it to the couch?"

"Couch…" he repeated, brow scrunching in confusion. Then he seemed to come to, taking a step towards his living space.

He wobbled alarmingly, balance deserting him. Chloe was at his side in an instant, wrapping her arm around his waist and keeping him upright. She felt the weight of his own arm settling heavily across her shoulders as he tried to stop himself from falling.

"Easy, I've got you." She hoped that was true. Even only partially supporting him, she could feel how his weight threatened to drag both of them down. If they fell, there was no way she would be able to get him back to his feet again. "You're okay."

It took a moment for him to regain equilibrium, his harsh breathing rattling a few inches from her ear. She waited for him to recover, careful to not move and cause him to lose his balance again. Her other hand rose to settle on his chest as she sought his heartbeat. It took a moment but she was able to feel the rapid flutter, discernible even through his shirt.

"Are you ready to move?" She asked, tightening her grip on his waist.

He nodded, head drooping, and shuffled forward one slow step at a time. Chloe made no attempt to hurry him, though she offered encouraging words whenever he faltered.

"Just a little farther okay? Then you can rest for a minute while I call an ambulance-"

He jerked, the arm around her shoulders retreating as he lurched sideways, away from her.

"No hospitals." He managed from around pained gasps, groping for something else to support himself on.

Immediately, Chloe was back at his side. He tried to shy away again but she would not allow it, forcing herself back under his arm, for once thankful he was so much taller than her.

"Stop it! You're going to hurt yourself more." She knew her tone was sharp but fear was starting to crack her cool exterior of logic. "You need to go to a hospital. You could be bleeding internally and you probably have a concussion."

He shook his head frantically, still trying to pull away from her while simultaneously tightening his grip to keep upright. "No! I wo… won't go."

Chloe feared the situation was rapidly deteriorating. If panic set it, real panic, he could hyperventilate and pass out. She needed to put a stop to this now.

"Okay. Okay. No hospitals. But I need to get you to the couch and that won't happen unless you cooperate." Maybe after he calmed down she could convince him to get professional help.

Lucifer's eye bounced around, his pupil so blown she could hardly make out his iris. He did not protest when she pressed them forwards again. When they reached the couch, she tried her best to lower him gently. His weight, combined with gravity, proved to be too strong a duo for Chloe and she winced as he fell back heavily. Almost immediately his eye slid closed, body sinking into the couch's embrace.

"Hey, you can't fall asleep. Possible head trauma remember?" She nudged his shoulder, the only part of him that did not appear damaged.

He grumbled, eye slitting open to survey her. "Wanna sleep," he mumbled.

She sighed, kneeling so she could get a better look at his face. "I know you do. And normally I would let you, but it's dangerous. You might not wake up again."

Her logical approach did not impress Lucifer, who even bruised and bloody still managed to convey his annoyance. She could sympathise with his frustration but was not willing to risk further harm merely to appease him.

"I need to get a look at your stomach. Can you get your shirt off?" She rose, scanning the room for anything she could use to clean him up a bit.

Ordinarily, the request to remove his shirt would have been followed by a quip but this time none was forthcoming. Lucifer's shaking hands crept to his shirt front, where he fumbled with the buttons. No matter how hard he tried, they slipped from between his lax fingers.

Chloe took pity on him, placing her far steadier hands over his. He twitched at the touch and she was reminded how nervous physical contact made him.

"I'm going to help you unbutton your shirt." She said aloud, hoping that explaining her actions would help placate him like it would a child.

He was still tense, though from pain, her touch, or a combination of the two, she was not certain. Methodically, she undid each button. His hands fell away and allowed her to continue unobstructed, though he studied each movement of her fingers.

When she reached the blood soaked fabric right over his injuries, she went slow, making sure not to pull at his skin which was surely attached to his shirt by the drying blood. He groaned only once, a small whimpering sound that cut off as quickly as it started. She looked to him uncertainly but he was still as stone. Undoing the last button, she pulled her hands away. He relaxed instantly and her chest constricted at his discomfort.

"Do you have towels anywhere?" She asked, wanting to give him a little break before continuing.

None of this was going to be easy for him, especially if he continued to refuse outside help. So far, she had avoided touching any of his injuries for fear of causing a negative reaction. She had no choice now. Already she could see fresh blood seeping out from under between the limp sides of his shirt. He must have reopened something while struggling against her.

"Bathroom." He said, pointing in the general direction of his bedroom. "Don't… don't use th-the Egyptian cotton ones."

"Right." She nodded soberly while also wondering how the hell she was supposed to tell Egyptian cotton towels from regular ones.

Moving quickly up the steps that led to his bedroom, she paused half a second to look around. She had never been up here before. The wealth that oozed from the rest of the penthouse was present even in the sparsely decorated room which housed only a bed, chair, and several tables holding lamps.

His closet, which had no door, was just to her right and beyond that she could see a sink. Hurrying through, she ignored the fact he had an entire wall dedicated just to shoes - all nearly identical to her untrained eye - and the long rows of neatly pressed dress shirts.

The bathroom was even larger than the closet. Gold finishes and polished surfaces surrounded her as she looked around for a towel rack. She found one, nudged into the space between the massive glass shower and a bathtub large enough to be considered a jacuzzi.

Almost all the towels were black but she ignored these sets. Blood did not show up well against dark colors and she wanted to pay attention to how much he lost while she cleaned him up.

A lilac pair was near the bottom of the stack and she wrenched them out, sending the tower of towels collapsing. She would fix that later. Hurrying back into the living space, she found Lucifer had slumped back, body lax.

"Hey, what did I say?" She asked, depositing the towels on his coffee table. "You can't sleep."

Her voice was enough to rouse him for now but she feared what would happen as he tired more. Rushing to the bar, she searched for a bowl, finding one that looked to be made of stone crammed near the mini fridge. It was heavy and bulky but there was no time to find something more convenient. Shoving the bowl under the sink faucet, she half filled it with lukewarm water and then washed her own hands.

Approaching Lucifer again, the water sloshing in her bowl as she struggled with it, she was relieved to see that he had managed to keep alert. Granted, his pupil had yet to shrink and his breathing was still uneven, but at least he was still aware.

"I said no-not the Egyptian cot-cotton, Detective," he said, speech still slurring.

"Will you shut up about the towels?" She set down the bowl and picked up one of the towels. Technically, this step should have been done with a smaller cloth but she had not seen one in the bathroom. "Now I have to stop the bleeding okay? It's going to hurt but I really need you to stay still."

Something sparked in his eye. Fear.

"Hey, it's alright. Everything's going to be fine." She tried to sooth him with words, frustrated she could not hold his hand without expounding his discomfort.

For a long moment, he searched her face. What was he looking for?

Whatever it was, he seemed satisfied with what he saw because some of the tension left him. The fear was still there, lurking just beneath the surface, but for now at least, it was contained.

"Promise?" He asked softly.

Not able to squeeze his hand, she instead gripped the towel so hard her hands hurt. "I promise."

She hoped to God she would be able to keep it.

He nodded almost imperceptibly, an invitation for her to continue. Amazed at the trust he was giving her and also terrified of breaking it, Chloe reached out and slowly peeled back his shirt. The fabric, as she expected, clung to him and it took several minutes of careful finagling to get it free. She could tell when she hurt him because he would stop breathing for a moment, though not so much as a moan crossed his lips.

Once the shirt was free, she was finally able to get her first look at his gut. To her relief, the three cut, though long, did not appear all that deep. The largest stretched diagonally from his ribs and under his belly button to rest near the waistband of his pants. The edges were not jagged, another good sign. Whatever had cut him must have been extremely sharp to leave such neat marks behind.

"Can you lean forward a bit?" She asked.

Lucifer did so and she shoved the fabric off his shoulders. It took their combined effort to free his arms too, his torso not allowing him to twist properly. As soon as he was free of his shirt, he was leaning back against the couch, as if it were all that was grounding him at the moment.

Chloe turned on a few lights and returned to his side, inspecting the damaged area. Most of the blood was coming from the top of the cuts so that was where she focused her attention. Folding the corner of one of the towels several times, she pressed gently against his injury.

She was not exerting much pressure but Lucifer immediately tensed, chest once again going still.

"I need you to breath. You've lost a lot of blood. The last thing your system needs is for you to deprive it of oxygen." She pressed firmer, relieved to feel his expanding chest push back at the towel.

She kept this up for some time, periodically checking to see if the flow had been staunched. When she was satisfied, she withdrew the dirtied fabric, tossing it on the ground for disposal later. Picking up a second towel, she dipped a bit into the water.

"I'm going to clean the blood off so I can get a better look." She said.

Lucifer did not respond, he had been silent since she had started.

She began farthest from the cuts, working her way in slowly. Bit by bit, his pale skin peeked out from behind the red. But along with the skin came bruises.

Whenever she touched his left side, he jolted badly, eye bright with tears he refused to let fall.

"I think your rib is broken." Chloe said, wiping as gently as she could and revealing black and blue mottling. "What happened?"

"Kicked… he kicked… me." Lucifer muttered. He looked worse than before, sweat clinging to his hair and his too bright eye making him look feverish.

At the thought, she leaned forward, pressing a hand to his forehead, mindful of the gash. His skin was definitely heated but not enough for her to be worried. Yet.

"He kicked you?" She said aloud, attempting to drag him into a conversation and distract him.

"Just said that." He groaned again as she resumed cleaning the spot by his ribs. "Never… you never listen."

"I do too." She protested, moving on to his stomach. "I just wanted to clarify. This kind of thing isn't exactly normal Lucifer."

"I'm not normal," he said, voice stronger now that she had moved away from the bruising.

"So tell me, what happened?" She nearly face-palmed as soon as she asked the question.

It should have been the very first thing she asked when she had arrived. Downstairs looked like the staging for the gang war. Whoever had attacked the club could come back and it would have to be called in. She couldn't let someone this dangerous wander around in Los Angeles unchecked.

"Maze called." He started, head falling back. "She said Amenadiel, my brother, attacked her."

"And then you rushed out of the precinct." She continued when he lapsed back into silence.

"Yes, I returned home as fast as… as fast as I was able to and found… well, you saw." Deep breaths interrupted him every few words. "Amenadiel had to pay for… hurting Maze. I called upon him and… we fought."

"Wait, all this is just from one other person?" Her hands stilled.

"Believe it or not… I think he looked worse in the end." He managed a smile though it lacked any warmth.

Chloe did not respond. She finished cleaning him up, rising only once to find some gauze pads which were shoved deep in the bathroom cabinet. Wrapping the wounds just firm enough to hold without being restrictive, she wondered at what he had said.

His own brother had done this? What kind of fucked up family had he come from?

Lucifer, who had managed to keep his flinches to a minimum, had begun shying away from her hands again. When she tried to clean up his face, he started to lean away, the intimacy of the action too much for his frayed nerves.

"No c'mon, we're almost done. Just a little more okay?" She was nearly begging now.

The brief strength he had found earlier had dissipated, a world weary expression meeting her own. He did not answer her but stopped trying to move away, eye sliding closed as if not seeing would somehow make it better.

"Just a little more." Chloe repeated, bringing the cloth to his face.

The trembles started small, easily missed. She wiped at his ear, moving steady inward to clean the side of his face.

The first whine came as she touched the skin around his swollen eye. It was not a sound of pain, and Chloe was saddened to know she was now familiar enough with this side of him to know that. No, it was the same whimper of fear of small children and dogs.

"I'm sorry." She said, cleaning down from the eye to get at his nose.

He continued whining, the high keening sound slipping between his cracked lips unbidden.

"I'm sorry." She repeated, forcing herself to not hurry despite it all.

He was shuddering now, hands clawing at the leather. Dully, she noticed his knuckles were split too.

"I'm so sorry." Something hot was running down her face. Was she crying?

When she finally removed her hands, his trembles did not subside. He looked miserable, skin pinched and pale.

"It's over Lucifer. All over." She said, wiping at her eyes with the clean edge of the towel.

She wasn't being entirely truthful. Ideally, she would have liked to ice his black eye and the cut on his forehead needed, if not stitches, then some kind of gauze pad. He was well past his limits though and she knew better than to push him. Trauma victims reached this precipice, she had seen it often enough, where their bodies and minds could simply not deal with anything more.

When Lucifer's eye peeled open, the white was tinged red with his own repressed tears. His breathing was short and shallow, bare chest rising and falling rapidly. The bandage around his stomach was still a pristine white which was good. The wound had looked far worse than it had ultimately been and Chloe was secretly thankful she had not called an ambulance for him.

She sat back on the coffee table, giving him a bit more space. All around her was blood stained fabric. The water in the bowl, which she had changed twice, was a disturbing murky color.

"I can't do anything for your rib." She said listlessly. "I can't tell whether it's broken or fractured."

Lucifer nodded tightly, not looking at her.

She ran a hand through her hair, pulling it free from the ponytail she usually wore at work. Her clothes were stained red, a faint metallic scent hanging unpleasantly in the air.

Lucifer was free of blood but between the bruises and bandages, he looked corpse-like. His eyes were sunken with exhaustion, that bright glimmer from before well and truly extinguished.

"Let's get you to bed, you shouldn't sleep on the couch." She stood and stretched, back protesting strongly after spending so long bent.

Lucifer did not even attempt to rise. "My knee hurts," he mumbled.

"Why didn't you say so before?" Chloe said, sinking back down. "Which leg?"

He twitched his right foot and she reached forward, catching his calf with one hand and his ankle with the other. Slowly, she raised his leg so she could settle his foot on her lap. His shoe was still on and she untied it, sliding it off along with his sock. His foot twitched.

"Ticklish?" She asked but he was too tired to answer.

Rolling up his pant leg, she was met with even more bruising. His knee was only slightly swollen and she was not informed enough to tell if anything was broken beneath the skin. She chanced twisting the joint but stopped when Lucifer moaned loudly, foot kicking against her stomach.

Lowering his leg with care, she picked up the other one and removed that shoe as well. His feet were freakishly large and she wondered if he had to get custom shoes for himself. She almost asked him but realized she would not get an answer from the nearly comatose man before her.

Setting his leg down, she rose to her feet for what she hoped was the final time tonight. "Lucifer, you can sleep in a bit. We need to get you to bed first."

He was worryingly unresponsive and it took several minutes of pleading just to get his eye open again. Once he was conscious, she sat beside him, slinging his right arm over her shoulder and wrapping her other arm around his waist, mindful of his injuries. One of her hands brushed against his scars but there was no answering jerk. Wherever his mind was, it was not with her.

"I'm going to help you up but I need you to try too." She gathered herself and pushed hard with her feet.

Lucifer was not much help but between the two of them, they were able to stand at least. Chloe felt like they were entries in a three legged race as they did an odd hobble shuffle towards the bedroom.

The stairs proved to be another challenge as Lucifer, in his hardly conscious state, simply refused to climb them. Chloe begged and swore but it was the sight of her tears that got him moving again, each foot scraping against the stone as he struggled to raise them high enough to clear each step. She supported him the best she could but her arms were beginning to shake.

As they approached the bed, he sagged towards it. She deposited him gently, grabbing his shoulder to stop him from collapsing backwards.

"Wait, you can't sleep in those pants." She wrinkled her nose at the bloody fabric.

It took what seemed like an eon for her words to register with him but eventually his hands dropped to his belt. Instead of unclasping it, he yanked uselessly at the leather, staring down uncomprehendingly.

Chloe undid the clasp for him, sincerely hoping he was aware enough to get his pants off without her. Walking into his closet, she searched his drawers for anything resembling pajamas. She found red flannel sleep pants but no tee shirts. It was just as well, there was no way she would be able to shove him into a shirt with his movements as restricted as they were.

Scooping up the pants, she delivered them to Lucifer. He was still sitting on the bed, now in his underwear with a lost expression on his face. Robotically, he took the pajama bottoms from her and frowned at them.

Hoping he was just processing slowly, she ventured back into the closet and looked for something she could wear. If she spent any more time in her own dirty clothes, she might hurl. The metallic scent of before was now a taste in the back of her throat.

Taking one of his shirts seemed too girlfriendy so she settled on another pair of flannel pants and a robe. Changing in the closet, she returned to Lucifer and found he had managed to get the pants on himself. They were on backwards but she doubted he would notice.

Folding down the blankets, she called him over, helping him settle on his uninjured side. Fisting his hands in the blanket, he pulled them up high and burrowed his head under his pillow, only a few stray pieces of hair poking out.

She stayed for a few minutes, watching to make sure he was alright. His breathing had already evened out as sleep claimed him for her own.

Chloe wished her own night was over but there were still things she had to take care of. As quietly as possible, she cleaned the mess in the living room. Miraculously, not a drop of blood had gotten on the couch.

After stuffing the ruined towels and shirts into garbage bags, she called Dan and explained she would be staying the night at Lucifer's and asked if he could relieve Trixie's sitter. She gave him a brief rundown of what had happened, keeping Lucifer's injuries vague and asking that he make no mention to Trixie. Her daughter would become distraught if she knew Lucifer was injured.

Only then was she able to collapse on the couch with a pillow stolen off Lucifer's bed and a throw blanket she had discovered. The digital clock from the television set proclaimed it to only be ten thirty but Chloe felt like she had been awake for days. A part of her wanted to check on Maze too but she had no idea where the bartender lived and she really didn't fancy getting stabbed by the crazed woman.

Sleep was slow to come, her thoughts racing as she thought of Lucifer fighting his brother - who she imagined looked like a young Mel Gibson for some reason.

Eventually though she drifted off, still imagining Lucifer and Mel Gibson exchanging Muhammad Ali worthy blows.

* * *

It was still dark out when Chloe jerked awake, sitting up warily. The TV clock said it was just past one. She looked around the room, waiting for her eyes to adjust. As things came into focus from the gloom, she searched for what had awoken her.

Nothing was there.

Laying back down, she stared up at the ceiling. It was probably a nightmare that had woken her up - she seldom remembered them.

Then something sounded, a plaintive whimper from somewhere in the darkness.

She sat up again, throwing off the blanket and getting to her feet. There was only one other person in the penthouse, as far as she was aware, and that noise was definitely human.

Another whimper, louder this time, had her hurrying towards the bedroom. Climbing the steps, she peered inside.

"Lucifer?" She said softly, just in case she was hallucinating and he was still asleep.

It was too dark to make out much but the human sized lump on the bed was just visible. The human sized, shaking lump.

She approached cautiously even as another whine issued from under the blanket.

"Lucifer are you awake?" She reached forward, settling her hand on what felt like a shoulder.

The shaking stopped but the whimpers continued.

Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see, not that it mattered all that much. Lucifer was still completely hidden beneath his blankets.

Reaching for a corner, she peeled it back a bit and found him in the exact same position as when he fell asleep. The snuffling noises were louder now and she sat on the edge of the bed uncertainly.

His head was hidden under his pillow still but she was fairly sure he was still asleep. A nightmare?

"Hey." She crooned softly like she did for Trixie. "Everything's fine."

She couldn't guess at how many times she'd said that in the last ten hours.

His pale skin all but glowed in the watery moonlight squeezing in from between the curtains. The bruises and bandages adorning him were hidden from view, just an unblemished canvas left behind.

Reaching out, she settled her hand on his upper arm, expecting him to awaken and freak out. Instead, his breathing evened out again.

She stroked his arm a few times, surprised he seemed to take some comfort from her touch. It was the exact opposite of how he acted when he was awake and she wondered if anyone had ever done this for him.

Even after he quieted, she sat with him a while longer, just enjoying the feel of his lightly freckled skin beneath her hand. He would have never allowed this when he was awake.

And just like that, the spell was broken.

Regretfully, she pulled away and resettled the blanket to hide him again. She had always assumed that he would be one to sleep all sprawled out, taking advantage of the space but right now he was curled up as tight as he could manage without hurting himself. He seemed so much smaller to her now, as if without all the bravado, he had shrunk. Yet she found it strangely adorable too.

Returning to the couch, she found sleep came easily to her.


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N - There as a bit of a wait for this chapter unfortunately - the writer's block was strong. I dreaded writing this chapter since the conception of the story actually. Periods between chapters should be significantly lessened now. _

_I hope everyone had a nice holiday season if you celebrated._

_Special thank you to DaDragon562, the-darker-side-of-things, Laetitia-chan, Sapphire's Ink, OldGirl-NoraArlani, tsunamicats, ShelbyT, locky3670, Renzo7, Silent Sound 715, Dobby and Padfoot, mendenbar, Vexating, 666jade, Snowwaffles, Patougv, XxSchlottixX, and everyone else who reviews, favorites, or follows. It's your words of encouragement that make this fic possible._

_Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Ten - Paint**

Everything hurt.

In the past five years, Lucifer had awakened in a myriad of situations. Most had been enjoyable enough, lazy mornings spent in foreign beds with different men and women, where the only unpleasantry was discovering one of his bed mates snored. Maze was strong enough to leave him aching after a night of fun but otherwise he was immune to the general soreness that dogged most humans the morning after.

This morning was proving to be a terrible exception.

There seemed to be no start or end to the pain, which merely varied in its intensity. His torso was the worst, needle sharp stabs making it difficult to even breathe shallowly. From there, a terrible stiffness in his hips and back urged him to change positions, overshadowing the ache that encompassed the whole left side of his face. Just the thought of moving, however, was enough to make his stomach roll with unease.

Forcing his eyes opened, he was alarmed when only one followed the order. The other lid felt heavy, skin puckered and heated. He had taken many hits to the face in his lifetime but never had an injury been so great his eye had swollen completely shut.

The previous day was slow to come, his mind trudging through half formed memories. He could recall being at the precinct with Chloe and then… then Maze called. From that point on, it became much harder to remember. He could not recall where he had met Amenadiel, but the scent of the ocean filled his nostrils. The pier?

Then he had called his brother and they had fought. He thought he threw Amenadiel off the pier, it sounded like something he would do at least. Then he had returned to Lux and… and…

He groaned, rubbing hard at his good eye.

The only other thing he could remember were hands, soft hands. Someone had cleaned him up and gotten him into bed. It must have been Maze, no one else would have done it. Sometimes he took it for granted, how close she was to him. All of last night, all the blood spilled, it had been for her, a revenge he knew she would not have been able to carry out.

It was sickeningly early, the sky outside his curtains only just beginning to change colors with the coming dawn. Lucifer doubted he would be able to return to sleep. Everything ached and pulsed relentlessly in time with his heartbeat. Getting up was going to be painful but he doubted there was anything he could do that would be painless, at least for the next few days. Besides, it would take much longer to get ready for work. He had not yet gotten a look at himself but if his face looked half as bad as it currently felt, nothing short of a miracle would hide his injuries from Chloe. Hopefully, she would be too busy with their case to worry about him. He was not sure he would be able to handle her piteous looks. Those were for victims, not the Devil.

Rising proved to be a lesson in aerobics. His body was too battered to respond like it normally would and he ended up half rolling, half falling out onto the floor. He was just congratulating himself on his ingenuity when his knee decided to make its own pains known and collapsed under him. Narrowly saving himself by grasping the bedside table, he panted and ignored the cold sweat already collecting at his brow from the exertion.

Looking down, he was surprised to see the white bandages wrapped around his stomach. They stood out against all the bruising - no wonder he could barely breathe. The handiwork was far superior to anything he had ever witnessed from Maze but perhaps she had been studying up.

He found standing was not too terrible so long as he had a piece of furniture to support himself on. Chloe was definitely going to notice if he spent the entire day hanging onto shelves and desks but there was simply no helping it. For the first time in his life, he hoped for paperwork. If they were restricted to her desk all day, he could simply remain sitting and none would be the wiser to his condition.

It took longer than he had anticipated for his body to become stable enough to chance walking. He felt terribly weak all over, like the only thing keeping him together was his skin. One of his ribs was most definitely broken and he wondered if it was a good idea to leave it rattling around inside him. The last thing he wanted was for it to heal crooked and ruin his physique.

Moving carefully around his bed, he kept one hand resting on the mattress. His progress was slow but at least he was mobile. Rounding the bed, he headed into his closet, stopping at the full length mirror to get a look at himself.

The ragged man staring back at him startled Lucifer and he blinked owlishly.

Some of his hair had begun to curl but much of it was plastered to his forehead, stuck to a massive cut which must have bled all over his face during the night. His black eye was part of a larger bruise which encompassed the entire left side of his face to his jaw.

He held one of his arms out in front of him, watching as the reflection did the same, and cocked his head. Was this battered creature really him?

In some ways, the sight of so many bruises bothered him more than his devil face. One was a reminder of his fall, and while unpleasant, had become scars he wore proudly. The red leathery skin was proof of his struggle and further distanced himself from his family. His siblings feared the face, unable to meet his red gaze on their few visits to Hell. Whether the response was derived from disgust or guilt, Lucifer didn't much care. It was enough for him to have his superiority asserted.

These new injuries though, they did not speak of strength. He looked beaten. Bags hung under his eyes and he could not manage even a slight smile without his entire face hurting. The armor he usually wore so proudly, the humor and charm he thrived on, it was all missing, leaving him unexpectedly bare.

Forcing his swollen knee to take his weight, he straightened his posture until he stood tall and proud. His leg shook violently but he gritted his teeth and refused to so much as sway. Fuck did it hurt but he ignored the pain, calmly piecing his armor back together.

He tried a few variations of smiling but his cracked lips protested. In the end, he settled on a smirk, something suggestive enough without causing too much discomfort. He was not sure how to get his good eye to brighten up. The brown was awfully listless and dull, so much so that he was sure even Dan would notice. And if Dan noticed, then Chloe definitely would.

He mimed adjusting invisible cuff links, surveying the affect in the mirror. A few things were still off, the stiffness of his movements, but he figured what he had was enough to fool most people he would encounter throughout the day. If worse came to worse, he would simply beg off work early and return to Lux under pretense of having to get ready for the evening's festivities.

Oh right, his club had been reduced to splinters.

Well, at least he had a built in excuse to leave Chloe if the need arose. Not even that silver lining could stop his wince though as he recalled the heavy level of destruction that awaited him downstairs. He would have to call in a dozen favors just to get everything repaired in a timely manner.

Losing the piano especially was a blow. The instrument was not as extravagant as the one in the penthouse. Despite the generally higher class of clientele which frequented Lux, humans were still humans. Accidents happened, people forgot to use coasters. Purchasing an expensive piano for the club itself was only asking for trouble.

That was not to say the instrument downstairs was mediocre. True, it was a rather basic grand, but Lucifer had bought it from a reputable seller for more than most of his suits cost. Maze often joked that he took better care of the instrument than he did himself, a claim he could not outright deny as it was partially true. He had it tuned once a month instead of yearly and made sure it was always in immaculate condition.

His reflection had grown exceptionally broody, the careful sculpting from before lost to a grimace and down-turned brow.

Lucifer banished all thoughts of his lost possession. He would buy himself a better piano, perhaps something custom. Dad knew he could afford it.

Hobbling away from the mirror, he perused the rows of pressed shirts. He was not feeling particularly adventurous today and settled for his traditional white shirt and black suit. A red pocket chief would add a nice splash of color. No need to sacrifice style merely because he felt like someone had tossed him down a staircase and into a brick wall.

Sticking his thumbs in the waistbands of his flannel sleep pants, he began to pull them off. He only managed a few inches before his gut filled with fire and he froze, stuck awkwardly bent forward. His position, far from relieving the sudden pain, only increased it. Sucking in a breath, he righted himself again, vision darkening at the edges. He looked down at the white bandages adorning his abdomen, surprised to see hints of something dark beneath. Had he re-opened something by stretching?

His pants were now stuck around his mid-thighs but he could not gather the strength to remedy the situation at the moment. Abandoning the pants, he took one of a dozen white button up shirts and tried to shrug into it. One arm went in easily enough but he found it difficult to reach behind himself for the other sleeve. A few attempts and he managed to grab the errant sleeve but the material resisted his tugs. Turning his head, he realized the shirt was now twisted.

His breathing was becoming labored, the scraps of energy he had regained during the night already depleted. Everything hurt even more than it had when he had first woken up and now he was stuck in his closet, clothes trying to kill him.

"I'm going to flay Amenadiel," he hissed to himself, beginning to shake.

A part of him wanted to collapse onto the floor but he sincerely doubted his ability to get back up later. Besides, Maze would probably find the situation far too funny to actually offer any assistance when she finally found him. Still though, the humility might be worth it. He was feeling light headed…

"Lucifer?" A female voice said from right outside the closet.

"Maze!" He called excitedly before tempering his tone into something a little less excited-twelve-year-old-girl. "Could you come in here for a moment? I seem to be in need of your assistance," he finished boredly.

"Oh no, it's me. Chloe." Socked feet shuffled closer but stopped short of the closet entrance. "Are you… do you need help?"

What was Chloe doing here at Lux so early? It was hardly past seven by his estimation.

Looking down at himself, Lucifer realized how pathetic he looked, stuck in his clothes like a child.

"Nope, no help necessary. It's a bit early for a social call though, don't you think? Unless there's a reason for your visit, some wet dream you had about yours truly?" The waistband of his pajama pants were just a few inches out of reach and, try as he might, he could not bend far enough to pull them back up.

Chloe was silent for a long moment. "Um Lucifer? How well do you remember last night?"

Well this conversation was going to become boring rather quickly if Chloe kept asking questions instead of answering them.

"So you don't deny dreaming about me?" He twisted a few inches to free himself of his shirt and regretted it immediately, stifling a moan.

"Will you be serious for a moment?" And he could practically feel her eye roll even through the wall. "I was worried about you yesterday so I came over after work. Do you really not remember any of that?"

Once again, he tried to recall what had transpired after the pier. He could see hands, feel them ghosting over his damaged body. Pale hands…

"You? But Maze…" he trailed off, a dull throb behind his eye warning of an impending headache.

"Maze was here when I came up but she left," Chloe was hesitant and he could sense the half truth. There was something else there but he was not really interested in unpacking that at the moment. One catastrophe at a time please.

"I should've known. Maze has always been terrible with injuries. She can take apart a human like no one else but putting them back together is quite another story."

More memories were returning to him, whispered words of comfort, nimble fingers prodding, tears welling in blue eyes…

His stomach dropped as he realized the state Chloe must have seen him in. It was bad enough she had obviously cleaned him up but he could only imagine how pathetic, how weak and broken, he had appeared.

"Are you okay?" Chloe asked when the silence stretched too long. "I was surprised to see you had even managed to get out of bed by yourself."

"I'm fine," he replied instinctively, wishing she would leave. He did not want her to see him like this, like a victim.

"Fine huh? Then why did you ask for help when you thought I was Maze?"

His Detective really was too smart for her own good.

"I…" he stopped, the quips that typically came to him instinctively failing to make an appearance.

"That's what I thought," she said. "I'm coming in."

"No! No, really, I'm fine. Go home Detective." He looked around for something to shield himself with but unless he wanted to throw a jacket over his head and pretend to be a lamp, there weren't many options left to him.

"If this is because you're naked, I've seen it all before, not that you gave me much of a choice." Chloe strolled in, smiling to herself. Her expression froze as she caught sight of him. "Oh Lucifer," she sighed.

He looked away from her, unwilling to see the pitying look. What a sorry sight he was, the Devil too thrashed to dress himself properly. Chloe must be repulsed by him. Any second now she was going to flee the room and disappear.

He heard her pad across the floor but kept his gaze fixed on the bottle of shoe polish high up on a shelf. It was nearly empty. He would have to order another one soon or -

The small hand which cupped his jaw startled him. Looking down, he met Chloe's troubled look as she tipped his head down nearer to her eye level. He nearly jerked out of her grasp but there was nothing threatening about the gentleness, her spread fingers careful to not graze any bruising as her other hand came up and tried to brush his hair off the cut.

"I'm sorry I didn't bandage your head last night. Did the blood stain your sheets?" she released his chin and, seeming to realize how close she was standing, took a healthy step backwards.

"It's quite alright Detective, no need to apologize," he answered, still feeling the warmth of her hands on his face. The gesture had been baffling and, while hardly unpleasant, he had absolutely no idea what to make of it. "I'm sure the bed sheets are fine."

Chloe bit her lip and gave him one of her patented 'that's not what I meant' looks. Her eyes bounced around his form, darting from injury to injury and Lucifer felt the urge to turn away from her. He might have if not for the fact he was certain the movement would send him tumbling to the floor. There had been quite enough embarrassment today on his part to last the rest of the decade. Covertly, he yanked uselessly at his free shirt sleeve. If he could just get the fabric untangled, everything would be fine.

"Stop, you're going to hurt yourself," Chloe admonished. "Here, let me help."

He wanted to deny her aid but even he knew better. She stepped around him and he turned his head to watch her. It wasn't mistrust just… he needed to keep an eye on her.

Chloe took the shirt and untwisted it under his watchful gaze, sliding the one sleeve off his shoulder. He straightened his arm as she eased the fabric down over his hand and freed him. Taking the shirt, she hung it back on the only bare hanger.

"You know," she said, running her hand over the fabric thoughtfully, "friends ask each other for help sometimes. It's one of the reasons for friendship, having a support system."

Support system? He didn't much like the sound of that. He'd had virtually no support in the days leading to his fall and the eons following? Forget about it. Outside of Maze, the only being he could rely on was himself.

Chloe looked away from the row of shirts at his silence. "It's not weakness," she said firmly.

Yeah, it was. But clearly Chloe expected him to agree with her. He tried for a noncommittal shrug.

Her eyes narrowed calculatingly. "If I asked you to pick up Trixie from school, would you do it?"

"Of course," he answered immediately. "The convertible's interior would have to be thoroughly washed afterwards though."

"And would you think any less of me for asking? Would it make me a terrible mother?"

He frowned, baffled. "Never. Detective, where are you going with this? Has someone said something? Just tell me the name and I'll set them straight. How dare anyone imply you are anything less than a stellar mot-"

"No Lucifer, no one said anything." Chloe was blushing, much to his surprise. "I was being hypothetical." She hesitated a moment. "Do you mean that though?"

"That you're an exemplary mother? Certainly. I do not lie remember?"

Chloe's eyes were unnaturally bright as she gave a pained smile. "Don't you think you're laying it on a bit thick? I mean, exemplary isn't the word I'd use."

"No," he said simply. "Your child certainly has her quirks, no doubt from Daniel, but I find her presence quite bearable. She is spirited and smart, as I've surmised from the stickers her teachers put on her school work. Though how stickers equate to intelligence, I'll never know."

Chloe wiped at her eyes and Lucifer became alarmed. How did he keep doing this, making her cry?

"Detective, what's wrong? You're crying and smiling."

Eyes still wet, she offered him one of the most dazzling looks he had ever seen. Every one of her pours radiated light, like divinity was creeping beneath her skin. And it warmed him too, a heat which started at his head and cascaded to his feet like stepping into a hot shower.

"I'm fine Lucifer. I just… thank you."

"There's no need for gratitude, I was merely reiterating a truth," he said, feeling uncomfortable with her reaction. It was making his chest tight.

Chloe had collected herself, rubbing the corners of her eyes with her robe. For the first time, Lucifer noticed what she was wearing. His sleep pants were far too long for her, only her purple socked toes peeking out from under the excess fabric. His robe fit her somewhat better, too large at the shoulders but otherwise complimentary enough to her figure. The dark tones contrasted nicely with her lighter hair which, free of her traditional ponytail, hung around her shoulders in a frizzy mess.

She was stunning.

That weird feeling in his chest was growing. He knew he should've been more concerned about that broken rib. He was probably bleeding internally which meant vomiting blood and all sorts of other nasty things.

"So," Chloe's voice tugged his focus back, "if I asked for help, you wouldn't think any less of me. That's how friendships work. Lucifer, I didn't stay here all night because I was forced to. I _wanted_ to."

He sort of understand what she was saying. Help was not something he was accustomed to though. Family was supposed to offer aid - he had learned that from TV - but his had never. He did trust Chloe though and if this was how she thought friendship should be, who was he to deny her?

"I understand Detective."

She waited a moment, as if expecting him to ask for something. There was nothing he needed at the moment though. At least, nothing that he could not procure for himself. He very much wanted to sit down. Concern for Chloe had temporarily directed him away from how his entire body ached but now the pain was back with a vengeance.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Okay, one step at a time I guess. At least you understand the concept. We'll work on getting you to shelve your pride at another time. C'mon, let's get you off your feet and I'll clean your face up."

"I can walk on my own!" He protested but she ignored him, sliding smoothly under his arm and supporting his weight much as she had the previous night.

Lucifer sighed but allowed her to direct him into the bathroom and deposit him atop the closed toilet seat. He watched her rifle through his medicine cabinet for a moment before grasping the waistband of his pants and pulling them up again. The movement was much easier sitting than standing, something he would have to remember for next time he was injured like this.

"Here, lean back a bit." Chloe came to stand between his spread knees, holding a wet cloth.

He complied, tilting his head back for her as she began to gently scrub at his face. As she freed his hair from where it had matted against the cut, she brushed the strands back. Having the rough cloth so near broken skin stung but Lucifer was completely caught up in the feeling of her hand in his hair.

Her fingers did not grip and pull like some of his partners did during sex. Instead she allowed the strands to flow freely under her hand, occasionally fiddling with any small knots she encountered. Under the ministrations, his good eye slid closed and he sagged, just focusing on the soft touches.

"All done," Chloe declared as she pulled away.

Lucifer blinked fuzzily, realizing he had been very close to dozing off. He heard Chloe throw away the cloth she had used and then come back to him, reading the back of a package of painkillers.

"Usually you can take Advil on an empty stomach but I think you should try to eat something first." She pocketed the package for later.

Gripping the vanity edge, Lucifer maneuvered himself so he could stand. "We could pick something up on the way to the precinct," he offered, knowing how bare his kitchen was.

Chloe frowned, taking a step forward to help him but he waved her off. His dignity was taking some serious hits lately and there was only so much a bloke could take.

"Lucifer, you can't come into work today," she followed him as he limped out to his bedroom and then stopped at the set of steps leading into the main living space.

"Why not?" He gripped the railing and did a little hop to get down, conscious of Chloe who was hovering so closely, she was nearly on top of him.

"You need rest and time to heal. I don't think you should come in at all this week. Monroe is going to take one look at you and send you home."

"Well I suppose I can manage a few days off," he relented, leading the way down a hallway and into the penthouse's kitchen. "Lux is going to take some time to get up and running again anyway."

Chloe hung back as he approached the fridge and opened it. Let's see, he had a… half gallon of milk. Splendid.

Shutting the fridge, he rifled through a few cabinets before realizing all he could really offer was cereal. Patrick must have forgotten to stock up after yesterday's party.

"Would you like Fruit Loops," he turned to Chloe who was sitting at the center island.

"You eat Fruit Loops?" The corners of her mouth twitched.

"Not usually. Maze is rather fond of them though. She says it pairs well with tequila." He opened the box and gave the contents a suspicious sniff.

"No alcohol while you're on painkillers,"

Collecting the milk, bowls, and spoons, he deposited the lot on the island and took the seat next to Chloe. She wasted no time pouring herself a bowl but Lucifer hesitated. He did not feel particularly hungry at the moment, the dyed food doing nothing to stimulate his palate.

Chloe gave him a look. "You need to eat. Even if it's just a little bit."

Picking up the box, he poured about ten loops into his bowl and looked to Chloe, hoping that would be sufficient. She gestured impatiently and he tipped the box a bit further, allowing two more loops to slide out.

"I can't believe you're able to care for yourself. Give me that," she took the box from him and filled his bowl halfway.

His stomach quivered just from looking at the food. Robotically, he grabbed the milk and poured in just enough liquid for the cereal to float. Digging in with his spoon, he captured a few of the colorful loops and eyed them critically before taking a bite.

Yep, they tasted awful, all processed sugar. This was to make him feel better?

He considered dumping the bowl in the trash but Chloe would not impressed. He owed her this much he supposed. She had spent the night and cared for him. Eating a bowl of cereal seemed woefully insufficient a payment but it was all he could offer her at the moment.

By the time he was finished, he felt decidedly more nauseated than before. Chloe, who had finished her own breakfast some time ago, wordlessly handed over several pills which he swallowed dry. He had his doubts about how well they would work but even if the pills just took off the edge, he would be grateful.

"Do you need anything before I go?" Chloe asked, clearing away the remnants of their meal.

"No, I just want to go back to bed."

Only awake for an hour and his body felt like he had run miles. His skin was painfully sensitive, bare arms freezing despite the warm temperature of the penthouse.

"Do you need help?" Chloe paused in washing the bowls in the sink.

"Actually, could you hand me that phone there?" He gestured to the wireless wall phone unobtrusively hidden by the coffee maker.

She handed to him with a curious look as he dialed one of about four numbers he actually knew off the top of his head. It rang twice before a curt voice answered.

"Good morning Mazikeen," he said pleasantly.

"What do you want?"

"Now now, no need for hostilities. We need to discuss Lux's renovations and I'd rather start sooner than later," he re-positioned the phone so it didn't rub his scraped ear. "Are you okay Maze?"

"Fine. I'll be up in a few." And with that she hung up.

He listened to the crackle of the disconnected call for a few seconds before hanging up on his end and setting the phone down. Rubbing the uninjured side of his face, he caught Chloe watching him.

"Maze isn't an early riser," he answered her silent question and slid off his stool.

Once again, momentarily resting only made everything hurt that much more and he grimaced to himself as he hobbled from the kitchen, Chloe peeling off to change into yesterday's clothes. He reached the main room just as the elevator dinged, Maze stalking out tense as a cat confronted by a vacuum.

"Why are we doing this so early?" She demanded to know, immediately heading for the bar.

"I take it you didn't sleep well?" He leaned his forearms against the bar top as she opened what was undoubtedly the most expensive bottle on display.

"I was up until three looking for one of my blades. It's gone missing," she looked as a glass before deciding to drink directly from the bottle. "If your brother stole it, I'll pluck him myself."

"As interested as I am in seeing Amenadiel sans feather, I'm afraid he can't take the blame this time around. I took one of your blades with me last night as insurance ."

Maze scowled. "Last night you said you went unarmed!"

"No, you said that. I didn't have a chance to contradict you."

"Oh right because then your pet detective showed up," Maze snarled, gripping her bottle so hard the glass cracked.

"Watch your tone, Mazikeen. The Detective did me a favor last night after I apologized for your ill temper," he lowered his voice. "Whatever has gotten into you of late? If this is about not returning to Hell, I have already offered you the use of my coin to get back."

"I will not return without you," she set the bottle down forcefully.

Lucifer sighed. "Then, once again, we are at a stalemate."

Maze breathed deeply, her face twisting as she tried to rein in her raging temper. "Was it really so bad in Hell? You never talk fondly about Heaven so it must have been an upgrade somehow."

Lucifer had never really told Maze about Heaven or the days leading up to his fall. He knew she would not understand the agony of being rejected by one's own family. Demons were not tied by blood. Bonds meant nothing to them. Some formed gangs but there was no real affection between the demons involved. How could he ever tell Maze about the crushing loneliness and loss in such a way she could comprehend it?

"It is true there is little love lost between myself and Heaven. But being sent to Hell, it was like trading one form of torture for another. The bullwhip became a riding crop, the mace replaced the sword," he said, using a comparison she could follow. "Here on Earth, the torture ends."

"But you never complained about Hell before," Maze argued. "Sure, you loathed the demons and the ash but I never thought you were serious."

"Because until recently, there was no other choice. My stays on Earth were always dogged by the fact my siblings would drag me back sooner or later. Not this time though. This time, I'm free of it all," he smiled tiredly.

Maze was, for once, unreadable. Leaning across the bar, she raised a hand and traced his black eye. "You consider this freedom?"

"I do. The choice to fight back, not even that was granted to me until five years ago."

Maze's touch was different than Chloe's but far more familiar. It had bothered him a bit that she had not been the one to patch him up last night. For all their time in Hell, they had always cared for each other's injuries.

Perhaps Maze felt similar regret because she did not withdrew her hand. Instead, she familiarized herself with each bruise, each cut. He caught her hand as her fingers smoothed over his cut lips.

"Maze, are you alright?" He stroked her hand.

"Better than you," she replied with a ghost of a smirk and he relaxed.

"Amenadiel will never touch you again," he promised. "I told him the next time we meet, I'll kill him."

Maze's brow furrowed. "You'll kill your brother for ruining Lux?"

"No. I'll kill him for hurting you."

He was dismayed when Maze yanked her hand away at his words, her arms crossing. "I keep telling you that caring is going to destroy you one day. You're the King of Hell! The life of a demon shouldn't matter to you."

"Retired King of Hell," he corrected. "And yes, the lives of most demons do not matter in the slightest to me. But it's been a very long time since I've thought of you as merely another demon."

Maze looked away and Lucifer was alarmed at the shame so clearly written across her features.

"Maze," he started but Chloe's re-appearance cut him off.

"I'm sorry I've got to go Lucifer but Dan just called and said there's something new with the case. Hello Maze," she finished, stopping short as she noticed the other woman.

Maze gave a curt nod, a much warmer greeting than Lucifer had anticipated.

"Of course Detective. I understand," he said easily but secretly wishing she could stay just a bit longer. He banished the feeling at once.

"Um… Maze? His bandages are going to need to be changed some time today. I left the Advil on the dresser for when he needs it. I wish I could stop by after work but I don't think I'll have the time. I'm sorry," she said.

Maze rolled her eyes. "I know how to take care of him."

Lucifer could see the disbelief Chloe clearly felt but he was thankful that she did not voice it aloud. The last thing he needed was a cat fight where one fighter had a gun and the other could scratch out your eyes.

"I'll try to visit again Lucifer. Get well," awkwardly, Chloe hurried to the elevator and disappeared inside.

Lucifer turned away once the door closed, limping back to his bedroom. He was exhausted and hurting badly despite the painkillers. Maybe he should take something a bit stronger than Advil.

"Where are you going, I thought you wanted to talk about Lux?" Maze followed, watching as he hopped up the stairs one at a time.

"I do but if I stand for one more minute, I fear I'll collapse."

He heard Maze follow him up the stairs and resisted a smile. Going to the unmade side of the bed, he settled down on his side, curling up and tucking his arms under his pillow. The mattress dipped as Maze climbed in beside him. She sat up against the headboard, her right side pressed tightly against his bare back.

"Okay," she started. "Which favor do you want to call in to get the floor fixed?"

"Actually, I would rather start with the piano. There's a fellow, perhaps you remember, older chap who came in about two years ago. He was having some difficulty getting his son out of a drug possession charge."

"Short and fat with a Stalin mustache?"

He laughed, though it cut off rather abruptly as his chest protested. "Yes, that's the one." He snuggled deeper into his blankets, enjoying the warmth of another body.

"Do you want to talk to him? I don't know much about instruments."

But Lucifer was already fading into sleep. "Trust you Maze," he murmured.

"You shouldn't," he thought he heard her whisper but he was already too far gone, sliding into the grips of sleep as Hell's most adept torturer looked away mournfully.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N - I apologize for the long wait, school took up way too much of my time. Anyone who manages to regularly update their fics and still has the time to study, I salute you._

_Special thank you to Laetitia-Chan, mendenbar, XxSchlottixX, OldGirl-NoraArlani, tsunamicats, CaptianBadAssMarshmallowFluff, Verge of Chaos, 666jade, Patougv, and everyone else who reviews, follows, or favorites._

_Hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Eleven - Going Under**

Noon was the unofficial lunch hour for the LAPD Homicide Department. Those lucky enough to not be canvassing or in the middle of questioning would migrate en-mass to one of the local eateries or food trucks waiting patiently outside. A few detectives, typically the ones either trying to finish paperwork or who were expecting calls, would eat lunch at their desks.

And then there was Chloe, who fell into the unfortunate third category of detectives who could not even entertain the notion of taking a few minutes off for something as unreasonable as nourishment.

At least in her case the choice to give up lunch was voluntary, unlike the junior officers who were swamped with grunt work by their superiors. The young men and women bustled around the bullpen, flushed and uncertain in the face of newly learned procedures. The Santa Monica Pier had been what looked like the site of a gang war and, until sufficient evidence cropped up, junior detectives and officers were sharing the burden of figuring out what had caused so much destruction.

Chloe saw none of this though, too focused on her computer screen to pay much attention to her surroundings.

"Any hits on our BOLO?" Dan asked as he dropped into the vacant chair beside her desk, interrupting her concentration.

"What? Oh, no. Not even a possible," she paused the CV footage she had been scanning for the past two hours.

Dan groaned in obvious frustration at the less than stellar news. Chloe shared his sentiment but was more reserved about it. After all, these results were about what they had expected when they'd put out the BOLO on Lucifer's brother five days ago.

"I don't like this," Dan complained. "I mean, we have the dude on video assaulting Lucifer and we can't do anything about it."

The morning after spending the night at Lux, Chloe had wasted no time informing Dan of everything that had happened. She had kept some of the details - like wrestling her partner out of his shirt twice - private but otherwise Dan knew everything about the second assault. Joining forces, the two of them had given up their lunch breaks for the past five days, intent on apprehending Lucifer's brother.

Unfortunately, the hunt was somewhat hindered by their lack of information. Dan had managed to dig up a photo taken by one of the security cameras in the parking garage. The still was horrendously grainy but it provided enough detail, along with Dan's own description of the man, that the two detectives had managed to put out a BOLO.

Actually getting a hit was another matter entirely.

As Lucifer was not pressing charges, there was technically no crime to investigate, much less something that should involve Homicide. Chloe had kept the BOLO vague, sighting the man as a person of interest but even that was bending some pretty damn important rules. The words 'misuse of police resources' kept flashing in her dreams, a not so subtle reminder that what she and Dan were doing was running very close to illegal. As such, they could not have a sketch made without alerting certain higher powers. Coupled with their lack of a name - Dan thought he had heard Lucifer refer to his brother as Amdile - and success seemed nearly hopeless.

"I don't like it either Dan. This guy has assaulted Lucifer twice now and he's wandering the same streets as my friends, as _Trixie_."

"Can't you just ask Lucifer to help us? All we need is for him to file a formal complaint and this becomes a million times easier."

"I can't," she gritted her teeth. "When he talks about his family, he's so casual, as if it's normal for a sibling to beat the crap out of you." She hesitated. "No, casual isn't the right word. He's more resigned, like his life has been this way for so long, he knows better than to expect anything else."

The skin around Dan's eyes pinched at her words. "Chlo, what happens when there's a next time? Because there's going to be and from what you described, Lucifer's lucky he walked away at all this time around."

"Don't you think I know that? I was the one who cleaned him up." Her voice cracked and she looked down, hands fisting in her lap. "The whole left side of his rib cage was bruised like I've never seen. One of his ribs was broken and when I asked what happened, d'you know what he said?" She looked up, almost definitely, at Dan. "He said this bastard he calls a brother had kicked him."

More than any other injury, the broken rib had bothered Chloe. Because for it to happen, Lucifer must have been on the ground. She could imagine him curled up, trying to protect himself from the monstrous form lashing out at his battered body.

He could have died.

Dan rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry Chloe. I can't imagine what this is like - for either of you. I just wish that Lucifer would have come to us for help though. I thought we were all getting along okay."

"I don't think he knows how to ask," she said softly.

"Right, well, why don't we continue where we left off?" Dan rolled his chair close enough that he could see her computer.

Redirecting her thoughts away from the memory of bruised flesh was harder than Chloe cared to admit. She did it though, opening a new window on her computer and logging into where they had decided to focus their efforts for the remainder of the lunch break.

"I still don't know if reading through adoption records is the easiest way to get information." Dan said even as he pulled a small notebook out of his pocket and flipped to a half filled page.

"It's the best we can do. You mentioned Lucifer's brother didn't have an accent right? Well, he must have come from the states and that means there has to be a record of him somewhere. If we find him, we can track down the rest of Lucifer's family. One of them has got to be adopted." She filtered her searches to exclude all but children born between 1978 and 1985, a time frame she was fairly confident both her partner and the mystery brother fell into.

For the next twenty minutes, time passed at a crawl as Chloe scrolled through page after page of results. Thousands of small faces stared back at her, some smiling but most doleful, large eyes hiding the many injustices they'd been dealt.

Dan finally broke the silence some time after she had passed the fourteenth page of results.

"Chlo, what happens if we find Lucifer's family?"

She tore her eyes away from a picture of a small girl no older than three who clutched a teddy bear to her chest like a shield and glared at Dan.

"When," he amended at the look. "When we find Lucifer's family, what's the end game?"

"If Lucifer's been abused the way we suspect, then I'm sure other children suffered the same. We can build a case off that," she returned to her computer screen, only to again be greeted by the sight of the small girl and her teddy.

Was that the photo of her partner she was going to find? A boy with a death grip on a toy, the last piece of his innocence clasped desperately by small hands?

"I don't think so," Dan spoke in a near whisper, as if he was aware of the literal volcano he was stirring with his words. "From everything we've seen, everything you've told me, I think Lucifer was the only one treated badly." He took a deep breath, gaze wandering past her head to the nearly empty bullpen. "Lucifer's got this twisted case of hero worship with his father, y'know? As much as he clearly despises the man, he also acknowledges how much more powerful he is than himself. That resignation you mentioned before? I've seen it too. It's written all over his face every time he talks about his dad."

"So? Many abused children carry a fear of their abusers well into adulthood. That feeling of helplessness sometimes never goes away." Chloe argued because what Dan was saying, no, it was unfathomable.

"But it's not fear is it? And Lucifer definitely doesn't feel helpless if he sought out his brother to fight him." He closed his notebook with a snap, still avoiding looking directly at her. "Just look at his name, Chloe. Best case scenario, he chose it for himself, which speaks to massive self esteem issues and a definite sense of betrayal. Worse case, his parents named him and his position as the lesser sibling was decided the moment he was born. I spent every weekend in Sunday school for years so I know the stigma the name Lucifer carries. The only worse possibility is his parents naming him Hitler. It's that bad."

"So what do you think then? That he was treated like shit by his parents but he saw his siblings treated like actual humans?"

"When his brother cornered him in the parking garage, he seemed proud to carry out their father's orders and he definitely didn't give a damn about Lucifer's protests. Lucifer has clearly been cast as the enemy in his family and that sort of derision for another is not inherited behavior. It's learned."

Chloe nodded absently but she was not paying much attention to what Dan was saying. She remembered when Lucifer had come over for dinner and answered Trixie's question about his past. He had said his siblings ridicule had followed on the heels of him being kicked out of his home. She had initially assumed that meant he had been close to his siblings prior to the incident. Looking back though, what he'd actually said was his brothers and sisters always followed their parents cues.

"I hate them," she said.

Dan looked up, startled. "Hate who?"

"Lucifer's family, his neighbors, his fucking mailman, anyone who saw what was happening and stayed quiet." She glared at her computer screen. "This is a waste of time, isn't it?"

At Dan's sheepish look, she exited off the tab with a sharp click of the mouse.

"Chloe, maybe we don't need to know everything about his past to help him," Dan said. "If he's not willing to confide in us, I don't think we should press."

She understood where Dan was coming from but she also knew this was not something she could leave. The turmoil caused by Lucifer's family clung to him like rose thorns. Small and needle sharp, the hurt oozed from him, tainting so much of his life. It killed her to see him beam whenever she gave him the lowest of compliments, as if he had been bestowed an extraordinary gift, or shrink away like a beaten dog whenever confronted with non sexual contact.

At least he was getting marginally better with touch. When she had untangled him from his shirt prison at the penthouse, Lucifer had not reacted adversely, though his wariness remained. Whether a result of exhaustion or, hopefully, a newly awakened trust, it was a step in the right direction.

Even better had been his reaction afterwards when she'd cleaned up his face. Running a hand through his hair had been instinctive for her, something she often did to Trixie. The gesture was just as much about comforting her daughter as it was about grounding herself. And after seeing so much of Lucifer's blood in less than twelve hours, grounding had been something she was in desperate need of. At first, she had assumed he would jerk away from the touch and grace her with one of those lost looks of his more befitting a puppy who had been informed that shoes were not, in fact, chew toys.

Instead, for the first time since meeting him, Lucifer had relaxed into her touch, nearly falling asleep again. His hair, despite all the product he usually doused it with, was extraordinarily soft and she had enjoyed playing with the strands, a few threatening to curl. Neither had mentioned the action later, for which Chloe was grateful. Stroking his hair had felt bizarrely intimate, more so than cleaning up his injuries.

In those trashy drugstore romance novels, fixing sword wounds and bullet holes was depicted as revoltingly erotic. The reality was so far from that fantasy, the two scarcely existed in the same universe. Lucifer's whines had haunted her the last five nights, the sight of his pain ridden eye drowning in unshed tears a waking nightmare which had yet to dissipate. Worse was the knowledge that she had been the cause of his pain, even if it was ultimately for his own good. She was thankful he could not recall much of that night.

An angry buzzing sound startled Chloe from her thoughts. She looked down to where her phone lay on the desk, screen lit to indicate a new text. Swiping to unlock the device, she read the message, lip twitching.

"Was that Trixie?" Dan asked, checking his own phone. Their daughter rarely texted either of them during work.

"Yeah, she's been messaging me all day. We're supposed to visit Lucifer after I get out of work. The moment she found out he was injured, she just begged and begged to be allowed to visit him."

"Can you remind me why Trixie likes him so much? One day she was coloring unicorns and the next I'm taping her drawings of Lucifer to my fridge."

"You have pictures of Lucifer on your fridge?" Chloe just managed to stay neutral in the face of such interesting information. "How many are we talking exactly? Like, would you consider it a shrine?"

Dan glowered. "Believe me, having Lucifer's crayon face watch me eat breakfast in my pajamas is not how I want to start my day. I would much rather have drawings of puppies and Mars hanging up."

Chloe resisted teasing him further. Trixie's sudden change of drawing subject was not confined to just Dan's apartment. An entire kitchen drawer in the Decker household had been reserved for all the pictures of Lucifer. Chloe's excuse to not hang them up - they were in a borrowed home and she did not want to change anything - was only going to work for so long. She had to admit though, her daughter was getting pretty good with proportions.

The addition of little red horns and forked tails however, those were details she could do without, especially in school projects.

The bullpen had begun to grow noisy again as detectives returned from lunch. Dan stayed at Chloe's desk but they redirected their focus to their current case. By the end of their shift, they both felt confident with the progress they had made - though the lack of suspects still rankled them. At least Lucifer's hunch about the clothes had paid off. The Stones had confirmed that what Anthony had been wearing in the alley did not belong to him. All of it was being run again by the lab but it would be a few more days until the results came back.

By contrast, once again Chloe felt like she was at square one with Lucifer.

As she drove home later in the usual mess of traffic, she thought over her conversation with Dan again. His reluctance to dig deeper was something she understood. The fledgling friendship that had only just begun to sprout between the two men was weak. Dan and herself still agreed that Lucifer's family was a tangible threat though. Anyone willing to call for what basically amounted to a hit against their own child was far too dangerous to be allowed to wander Los Angeles unchecked.

As much as she had wanted to avoid it, Chloe knew she was going to have to talk to Lucifer about everything. Unfortunately, there was no possible way she could see the conversation going well. Lucifer's ability to talk nearly nonstop yet not divulge a single personal detail was as admirable as it was irritating. He was always hyper aware of people's intentions, able to spot when someone was being even slightly deceitful. Direct confrontation, however, was something he was even more wary of.

Either way though, she had no intention of bringing up anything tonight. This visit was purely for Lucifer. She felt bad that she had not been able to scrape together enough time to see him the past few days. Lux was still closed and, by his own admission, as she was his only friend, she doubted anyone had visited him.

If he had owned a cell phone, she could have at least texted him. Lucifer had never seemed particularly fond of technology though. He could manage a computer fine and the flat screen television in the penthouse was current but beyond that? She hadn't even known he had a landline. Every time there was a case, she would call Lux directly and ask one of the bartenders to pass her message along.

Despite the luxurious lifestyle he led, Chloe was sure technology in general ranked rather low on her partner's list of 'necessities' - somewhere above clean water but definitely below hair products.

Which was why she had been most surprised when, after tracking down the penthouse number for Trixie, Lucifer had answered her call on the first ring. Chloe could only spare a few minutes to talk about visiting but he had eagerly agreed the moment she had proposed it, not even voicing his doubts about Trixie coming along. Once that had been taken care of, Lucifer had immediately launched into an explanation of what was going on with Lux's untimely renovations, down to the brand of screws being installed.

What should have been a two minute call dissolved into Chloe pretending she was working while Lucifer relayed every single detail of his life from the past forty-eight hours. In some ways, it was endearing. He had obviously wanted to keep her on the line (that much had become obvious when he had begun to complain about daytime programming) but it also bothered her that, aside from Mazikeen and maybe the rest of his staff, she was the only person he regularly interacted with.

Telling him she had to get back to work had not been fun. His rapid fire delivery, akin to how Trixie would speak when excited, sputtered out into silence, his child-like exuberance vanishing in a cloud of forced nonchalance as he ended the call with a, "see you tomorrow then".

A month ago, she would have blamed his sudden mood swing on his need to be the center of attention but now, knowing better, she wished she could have let him ramble on for hours if it made him feel better. Being cooped up and in pain was probably driving him insane.

Her car headlights illuminated the front porch of the home she resolutely did not think of as hers. Temporary was the name of the game. So long as no concrete decisions were made, the chance of reconciling with Dan seemed inevitable. If they were really over, she would be more willing to find a place of her own and start calling lawyers…

The front door was flung outwards as Trixie barreled down the steps barefooted. "Mommy!" she cried, rushing up to the car with her haggard looking sitter following.

"Hey Monkey," Chloe opened the car door but Trixie blocked her from exiting, quivering with excitement.

"You don't have to get out. I'm ready to leave!"

"Uh huh," Chloe looked pointedly at her daughter's bare feet even as the sitter came up to them, sheepishly holding a pair of sparkly pink sneakers.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Decker. I shouldn't have let her run outside like that."

Chloe climbed out of her car, somewhat impeded by Trixie. "It's okay April, really. She didn't give you a hard time did she?"

"Of course not!" Trixie said as the three of them walked back to the house. "I did my homework and ate my entire snack and everything!"

"No Mrs. Decker. Trixie was wonderful, as always."

Entering the house, Chloe pulled some money out of her purse to pay April and bid her goodnight before sending Trixie upstairs to wash her feet. She could just imagine Lucifer's reaction if he found dirt smudges on his floors.

Wandering into the kitchen, she searched for something to eat. Trixie had already eaten dinner but Chloe had already skipped one meal today.

A Tupperware container of leftover rice was her salvation. Transferring some to a plate, she placed it in the microwave and set the timer. While she waited, she thumbed through the pile of mail left on the counter. Most of it was junk - offers for credit cards and such - but one was a letter from Trixie's school explaining how the administration planned to handle Halloween this year. It listed the typical rules such as no toy weapons or costumes the students could not put on over their regular clothes, as well as the time of the Halloween parade that would take place on the playground during lunch.

The microwave beeped and she returned the letter to its envelope, making a mental note to provide Dan with the details of the parade.

She managed to eat about half of her dinner before Trixie came barreling down the stairs, this time wearing socks. "Are you ready?" she asked, plopping onto the floor to pull on her shoes over a pair of spectacularly colorful rainbow socks.

"In a minute," Chloe said, finishing off her meal and leaving the plate in the sink for later.

Gathering her purse and jacket, she herded Trixie outside and into the car.

The last vestiges of sunset had dwindled down to little less than a few random streaks of hazy pink in the otherwise inky night sky. By the time Chloe reached Sunset Boulevard, with no little amount of aggravation felt at the way everyone inexplicably became a terrible driver at the end of the work day, a handful of stars had been cast lazily up onto their black canvas.

The sight was a rare treat. Typically the smog filled sky hovering over Los Angeles was too strong a barrier for starlight to penetrate. The moon was usually alone, a dull hazy orb cast adrift. Chloe was just about to point the stars out to Trixie when she was greeted by another pleasant surprise.

Lux was all but glowing, the exterior lights pushing back the night. Even without a line queuing at the entrance, a sight as common as the club itself, life seemed to pulse through the building.

Chloe pulled into the space between Lux and the neighboring building, a spot generally reserved for Lucifer's Corvette. There was no bouncer to greet her as she climbed out but Lucifer had already told her the main entrance would be left unlocked for her.

"Lucifer lives _here_?" Trixie leaned back as far as she could without falling, awestruck gaze sweeping up the building.

Chloe took her hand, leading the way. "Just the top floor. The rest of the building is his business." Or that's what she assumed at least. "Which reminds me, be careful inside okay?"

"I won't break anything, I promise."

Chloe paused just outside the door, squatting down to place herself at Trixie's height. "Well, yes, I don't want you to break anything, but you need to be careful with Lucifer too, okay?"

"I thought you said he was better," Trixie's eyes widened in concern.

Chloe gripped her daughter's arms, rubbing up and down gently. "Do you remember when mommy was shot and how even after the injury healed it was still sore for a bit?" She waited for Trixie's nod before continuing. "Well, even if Lucifer is getting better, he might still hurt. I want you to ask before you touch him okay? And if he says yes, please be gentle."

Trixie face screwed up, head tilting. "But if he's still hurt, who's taking care of him?"

It was almost the exact same question Trixie had asked nearly a month when Chloe had shot him in that warehouse. Back then, and it was truly incredible how far away it all felt, she had not spared much time thinking about the answer.

Now, armed with knowledge gleaned from careful observance of her partner, the undeniable truth stung like briars.

It was natural for parents and children to drift apart with age, she had to look no further than her own relationship with her mother to know that, but when push came to shove, Chloe knew her mom was only ever a plane ride away. That safety net sometimes meant more than actually having her mom present after a rough case or during illness.

Lucifer had no such safety net. There was no one he could call, no comforting voice or concerned family member for him to lean on. The last five days, what had he done, limp around his apartment and eat three square meals of Fruit Loops?

She should have checked on him, made the time to visit after work. Despite what Maze had said to the contrary, Chloe harbored serious doubts about how skilled the volatile bartender was at administering first aid. Had she kept him away from alcohol and well hydrated? Had she changed his bandages regularly and made sure he took painkillers? Had she even stuck around?

Chloe blinked back to the present, shoving away her thoughts before they dissolved any further. Not twenty four hours ago she had talked to Lucifer and he had sounded fine. Even if Maze had completely ignored him, he was more than capable of caring for himself. He didn't need someone trailing after him, protecting him from the big bad world.

So why did she feel like she had to?

"Mommy? Can we go in now?" Trixie asked.

Chloe dropped her hands, rising back to her feet. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."

As promised, the club was unlocked. One gentle push and the golden doors swung open soundlessly. The hall leading to the main room of the club was lit by softer lights, casting weak shadows against the minimal decor.

Following the lights, the scent of new construction hit Chloe long before she saw the source. In some ways, it was a tragedy.

Lux's remodeling was extensive, she had known it would be just from the brief glimpse she'd gotten earlier, but somehow she had expected everything to be taken care of already. The usual laws of time rarely appeared to apply to Lucifer. What would take some days, he could accomplish with a few phone calls and innuendos. This nearly supernatural talent of his only added to his persona though, just another layer on top of all that wit, charm, and elegance that defined him.

So to see the club as it was, swaths of plastic laid out on the floor and piles of material left in haphazard stacks, was brutally humanizing.

"Watch your step," Chloe cautioned as she led the way to the elevator.

Winding around the balcony, she took a peek over the railing. A new set of plastic wrapped bar stools stood ready and waiting in the space where the piano had once gone. Without the instrument, the room did not feel right. The neon lights behind the bar, currently unlit, could declare all they wanted that this was Lux, the premiere Los Angeles club for those seeking fun and adventure, but without the piano…

No, this was not Lux. Not the Lux she knew at least.

Robotically, she pressed the up button to call the elevator while simultaneously keeping Trixie's hands away from anything that could smudge. A light ding sounded as the elevator door slid open and she stepped inside the golden interior.

As before, every floor aside from the penthouse level required a key code. She was seriously going to have to speak to him about that.

The doors opened again and Chloe grabbed Trixie's hand, tethering them together for the time being. Lucifer may have given consent to having 'her spawn' over but she knew he viewed children as a nuisance in general.

And speaking of Lucifer…

She was so accustomed to seeing her partner by the bar or on the couch that she did not immediately notice him sitting at the oriental desk in the corner by the row of bookcases, clad in pajama pants and a robe.

"Lucifer?" she called.

His head shot up from the piles of paper covering nearly every inch of the desk. "Detective? My apologies, I didn't hear you arrive." He rose from his chair carefully, rubbing his temple.

Chloe gave him a quick once over as she approached. "You look better," she said.

Lucifer smiled crookedly. The bruising on his face had receded from dark blues and blacks to the lighter greens and yellows indicative of healing. The swelling too had all but disappeared, though his bruised eye remained somewhat irritated. At least his vision was no longer impaired, his irises brighter than Chloe could recall seeing even before the fight.

"I'm fine. Nothing can keep the Devil down for long, not even Heaven's self proclaimed greatest warrior."

The claim wasn't entirely true. Chloe could see the stiffness of his movement, the slight hitch in his step no doubt caused by his damaged knee. She was not going to call him out on it though. As far as Lucifer was aware, he was telling the truth. Chloe had learned early on that what Lucifer actually meant when he said "I'm fine" was more along the lines of "I'm neither dead nor dying". So long as he was healing, she'd let his dubious definitions slide.

"Hi Lucifer," Trixie said, no longer content to be ignored.

"Ah right. Hello, small human," Lucifer took a cautionary step back.

Trixie noticed. "Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Mommy said I can't hug you without permission."

Chloe could practically see the indignation building in Lucifer at the thought of a child being able to harm the Devil and headed him off before he could launch into one of his delusional rants. "So, what's with all the paperwork? I thought you were allergic to that sort of thing."

Lucifer huffed, rubbing a hand absently through his already badly mussed hair. "Apparently quite a bit of work goes into substantial renovations. I've spent the last four days filling out forms for building permits and licenses."

Chloe frowned. "Aren't permits supposed to be approved before you start construction?"

Lucifer looked blank. "Are they?"

"Yeah, that's kinda the whole point of filling them out. What did you think they were for?" She approached the desk, taking a closer look at the clutter.

"I don't know. Hell didn't need frivolous forms to keep order." He came up beside her, watching as she picked through the piles.

"What's a building permit for?" Trixie asked as she grabbed for one of the paper.

Chloe deftly stopped her daughter's wandering hand. "Building permits are like permission forms you give to the city so they can make sure you're following the rules."

"Permission forms? The Devil certainly doesn't need permission to do anything. I should receive extended privileges, what with being related to the original creator of the universe and all… even if he is a controlling sod."

"Hmmm," Chloe hummed absently, sorting through the papers. Aside from the half filled out permits, there was also an abundance of order forms, a badly crumpled insurance policy, several inventory lists, and what was quite possibly every single receipt Lux had spawned in the past five years. "Why do you have all this out? It looks like you're being audited."

Lucifer shifted beside her. "My lawyer said I should collect all my receipts from the renovation for tax purposes. I tried to explain that I don't pay taxes and even if I did, I have no need for refunds or whatever they're called, but he was adamant."

Chloe froze. Was openly admitting to not paying taxes a crime? She was a homicide detective technically. But what about plausible deniability? Was this going to blow up in her face in three years? Why did Lucifer have to admit to criminal activity whenever she was around…

"And I gave the staff a week long vacation in the meantime," Lucifer continued, oblivious to Chloe's internal meltdown. "I sent them to New York City for some fun but then that meant I was responsible for figuring out inventory because my dear brother somehow managed to destroy every single vintage bottle I had on display. Some of those are one of a kind you know-"

"Lucifer," Chloe cut him off, "slow down." To her surprise, he did just that, mouth snapping closed. "Thank you. Now, ignoring your blatant disregard for laws, this is all a bit of a mess. Where's Maze? Didn't you say she usually does your books?"

At the mention of the bartender, Lucifer's expression soured. "Maze has been exceptionally difficult these past few days. First she refused to leave my side, as if expecting an attack. I could hardly shave without her at my elbow. Then, she became unnaturally irritated, even by demon standards, and stormed off after once again thoroughly reprimanding me for being 'selfish' by staying in Los Angeles."

Despite the dismissive attitude Lucifer usually presented when speaking about his bartender, Chloe knew the two of them were ridiculously close. An edge of concern laced his words, reinforced by the slightest pinching of his brow. Whatever was going on, Lucifer was not pleased about it.

"Who's Maze?" Trixie asked suddenly.

"Hell's greatest torturer and one of the most versatile bed mates I've ever…" Lucifer trailed off as Chloe leveled him with most of her most ferocious glares. "Well, perhaps the rest isn't quite appropriate for a small thing such as yourself."

"I'm not small!" Trixie protested. "I'm the third tallest girl in my class."

"I didn't mean small in statue, though that's certainly true as well. I was referring to your minuscule brain."

Chloe was surprised when Trixie tugged free of her grasp and came right up to Lucifer. "My brain is not 'miscule'," she informed him with more authority than her seven years would imply her possessing.

"Your head is smaller than my hand!" Lucifer sounded fairly exasperated. To make his point, he held out his hand, fingers spread, right before Trixie. "See? Your brain could fit in my palm."

As amusing as the scene was, Chloe knew she had better intervene before Lucifer's patience ran dry.

"Okay guys," she began before the words died on her tongue.

Trixie's head was cocked as she surveyed the hand hovering in front of her face. Reaching out tentatively, she brought up her own hand, pressing her palm against Lucifer's.

He jolted. Hard.

Long legs carried him back several paces, eyes flooding with panic at the unexpected intrusion.

Chloe silently cursed herself. This had been a bad idea. Lucifer was clearly not in the right head space for touching and could she blame him? Five days ago he had nearly been hospitalized by his own brother. She could not imagine how on edge he must be.

"Trixie baby, come here," she beckoned with a forced calmness to her daughter, hoping she could understand that Lucifer's reaction was not her fault.

Trixie had her own ideas however. For the first time ignoring her mother, she instead took a careful step towards where Lucifer, eyes downcast, was fiddling with a forgotten tumbler left on the bar top.

"Did I hurt you? I'm sorry," she near whispered, stopping short of him despite the distress written clearly all over her features.

Lucifer's gaze flickered up and he sighed heavily, a world weary sound as if thousands of pounds of concrete sat upon his slender shoulders. "You didn't hurt me, child."

"Yes I did," Trixie's voice warbled and Chloe was dismayed by the sight of tears. "Mommy told me to ask first and I didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"You didn't hurt me," Lucifer repeated. "You just… I was startled, I suppose."

Chloe watched the exchange silently, sensing it was important she let things play out. She was amazed that Lucifer so readily told Trixie the truth without even a hint of deceit. That one way connection between her daughter and Lucifer? Just maybe it went both ways. Maybe that inner child Lucifer sheltered, that lonely abused boy he had hidden deep in the recesses of his mind, was recognizing a kindred spirit.

"I scared you? But I'm not scary," Trixie chanced another step closer to the club owner.

Lucifer set down the glass in his hand, watching Trixie solemnly. "Yes, you are. Because you're different. You look upon the Devil and you feel no fear, no hatred or unease."

"Mommy doesn't hate you!" Trixie whirled to look at Chloe, aghast.

The barest of grins ghosted over Lucifer's face. "Of course she doesn't hate me. How could she, me being the attractive specimen I am?" His grin was lost to shadow, melancholy stealing away the light. "But she also doesn't really believe I'm the Devil. You do though, you've believed it from the first day we met. And instead of crying or running in terror, you said I was funny."

"Cause you are. Waaaay funnier than Daddy," Trixie was within arm length of Lucifer, not that he seemed to mind. Rather, his expression bordering on marveling, as if he had been bestowed a great gift.

"Fascinating," he murmured..

Trixie shifted, hands twitching. "Is it okay if I hug you now? I promise I'll be careful."

Lucifer looked nonplussed as if, even after Trixie's casual admission, he still could not comprehend why she would want to be anywhere near him. Then, to the amazement of, Chloe suspected, even himself, he nodded.

Trixie grabbed him in a second, arms wrapped around his waist as she pressed her head into his hip. At first, Lucifer kept his arms raised away from her but as the seconds dragged and Trixie continued to cling to him, he warily settled a hand atop her head.

Chloe watched silently, warding off the prickling sensation that had taken residence in the corners of her eyes. For the first time since meeting Lucifer though, they were not tears of sadness.

She may not believe her partner was the Devil but watching him clumsily pat her daughter's head, it did not take much imagination to see him as an angel.

* * *

Chloe had been involved in numerous couch snuggles in her time but this one certainly took the spot of most unique.

She was sitting on one end of the leather couch, feet curled under her as she watched whatever movie Trixie had chosen from Netflix. Beside her, Lucifer was half asleep, injured leg propped up on the coffee table and heading lolling. Trixie sprawled on his other side, somehow taking up more space than both adults.

In deference to their touch adverse host, both Chloe and Trixie had maintained a respectable, if comfortable, distance. The hug shared between Lucifer and Trixie, while adorable to Chloe, had sapped most of her partner's endurance in that department. She had proposed they watch a movie, mostly to keep her daughter preoccupied for a bit, a suggestion Lucifer had jumped on almost too readily. He had been a gracious host, providing food and allowing Trixie to pick what they watched, all the while making both of them laugh. They were two movies in now and well over an hour past Trixie's bedtime.

Chloe uncurled her legs, stretching them out with a sigh. She should have left after the first movie but every time she had considered it, another voice had pleaded with her to stay for just a bit longer. A strange sense of peace had pervaded the penthouse, the sort of peace that settles deep into soul and leaves one lethargic. Evidently Lucifer had felt it too because he had dropped off only half way through the first movie, though his eyes squinted open every so often.

Rising several inches, she checked on Trixie. Her daughter's face was smashed into a cushion, chest moving with slow, steady breaths. One of her hands was fisted in the corner of Lucifer's robe but otherwise she was following the rules, even asleep, and not touching him.

Chloe was delighted about the new development between Lucifer and Trixie. It was such a small step from the outside, barely worth noting, but she was keenly aware of how monumental it was he had allowed himself to be hugged.

Another part of her was worried though.

All the times she had dismissed Lucifer's delusions, she hadn't thought she was upsetting him. He seemed to take it all in stride, as if he were fully aware that no one was going to believe him regardless. It had become a game of sorts, at least, that was how it had felt to Chloe. Rolling his eyes whenever she mentioned God, his constant comparisons between Hell and Earth, most of it had felt overdone, exaggerations on his part to complete his persona. No doubt, he believed it but it had never occurred to her that by denying he was the Devil, she was unintentionally denying a part of him also.

She twisted to the side, fully facing Lucifer. He was still asleep, head set at an uncomfortable looking angle as he quietly snuffled. It was remarkable how many years sleep stripped from him. Chloe had no idea her partner's actual age but thirty-five had always seemed as good a guess as any. Now, he could have been ten years younger. The creases, worry lines that she rarely noticed because he spent so much time smiling and running around, were non-existent.

It was more than simply how he looked though. When awake, Lucifer nearly always exuded the air of a predator. Even at his most childish, there was a hint of strength, like a lion who just so happened to be in an agreeable mood but could absolutely tear off your arm if provoked.

Currently he was way less resting lion and more sleepy kitten.

The fluffed state of his hair did not help either. Chloe had seen it unstyled in the past but it was evident Lucifer had not bothered using product since his injuries. His curls were numerous now and flared in all directions like someone had shocked him. For the past two hours, she had resisted the urge to rumple it further, a very basic part of her brain demanding she stroke him like an animal.

"Lucifer," she said gently, deciding it really was time to go. Her thoughts were going in a weird direction. How many detectives thought about petting their partners?

Lucifer humphed, glassy eyes sliding open. "'Tective?" he mumbled.

"I'm sorry to wake you up but Trixie and I need to leave."

He shook his head a bit, irritated. "No. Stay."

Chloe smiled softly. "Trixie has school tomorrow."

Lucifer thought this over, half asleep mind trying to make sense of her logic. "Then she goes," he finally slurred. "You stay."

"I can't," she eased off the couch, stepping over his propped up leg to collect her daughter.

"I know," he said softly and Chloe turned sharply to look at him, the great weight he had given those two simple words screaming a warning.

Lucifer was no longer looking at her, gaze fixed on the television where credits were rolling on their movie.

"You know?" she repeated.

His shoulders lifted slightly. "People never stay."

The youthful look from before was gone and the more Chloe saw of it, the more she realized just how tired Lucifer truly was. She had only ever seen men hunched with age display this marrow deep exhaustion, as if life had sucked every last drop of energy from them.

"Just because I'm going to work doesn't mean I'm leaving," she protested. "I mean, yes literally I'm leaving. To go to my house. Not to jump a plane going to Rome or something! I would never do that." Something was bugging him. He was never this clingy. "What's wrong? And don't you dare say 'nothing' or so help me…"

His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Was being honest with her really that difficult? After everything they'd been through, the times they had saved one another's lives, why couldn't he just trust her?

"No one came and visited 'cept you," he was looking away but Chloe could see his ears redden at the admission. "My staff's not on vacation in New York. Turns out, they didn't want to be here unless they were being paid."

How many times could her heart break for this man?

"Lucifer, work friends are just different. There's like this whole culture around it. I don't go to work on my days off because, yeah, I'm not being paid and that time could be spent with Trixie or doing things around the house." She struggled to find an adequate response for him because in all honesty, Chloe knew she would be feeling pretty shitty if she was in his shoes. Had she really been the only person to come and see him?

"But why is all about money?" There was a hint of desperation in his voice, a need for her to make sense of this for him. "I don't get paid to be your partner but I do it anyway because we're friends. Right?"

Some faraway piece of Chloe's mind remembered something Dan had once told her: "_Lux has operated at a loss for the five years it's been open. I can't figure out why he keeps the place, unless he's using it to sell drugs or something,"_

"It's just… different," she said lamely.

"Why should it be? I paid for Patrick's wedding, got Dianna's son out of a drug charge, gave Edward a job even though he had only just gotten out of jail. I took care of them! All of them, Maze included. Especially Mazikeen."

The raw bitterness in his voice told Chloe exactly what was really upsetting him but it was a bit late for that.

"And what do I get in return? All she does is demand I take her home. But that's not good enough is it? No, no it's never enough. She wants me to go too, just uproot my life and go back to Hell like it's no big deal! I damn near died protecting her from my brother and once again I'm the villain in all this." He was breathing heavily, face twisted with rage and grief.

Chloe had always thought the relationship between Lucifer and Maze was steeped in turmoil. They spent just as much time arguing as they did laughing and while Maze clearly loved the fighting, evidently Lucifer did not feel the same way.

"Lucifer, I can't give you answers. I'm not your therapist and I don't want to be. You need to see Dr. Martin, I don't know what happened between the two of you-"

"SHE WAS SLEEPING WITH ME!" Lucifer roared like an animal, his voice throbbing through the penthouse inhumanly, and Chloe stumbled back fearfully, one of her hands reaching blindly for Trixie. "All this lecturing about letting people 'use me' and she was doing the same thing! Everyone, they just take and take and take. What happens when there's nothing left to give?" He stepped forwards threateningly. A predator.

"Mommy?" Trixie was awake now and Chloe gathered her in her arms even though she was getting too big to carry.

"I think we should go," she said in monotone, fear leaving a hot weight in her gut even as rods of ice burned her back.

Never before had she felt scared around Lucifer. His anger was always contained or focused on suspects.

"Detective! No wait, I'm sorry," he followed after her, unbalanced as he was by his limp.

"No, no we need to go."

"Mommy wait! What happened?" Trixie tried to squirm free but Chloe held her with all her might.

This had been a terrible idea. She knew Lucifer had a thirst for violence but she had never expected him to behave like this, especially with a child around. Fear was still pounding through her veins. He had sounded so inhuman for a moment, God she could swear his eyes turned red...

"Chloe."

And it was her name that did it, that cut through the protective mother overdrive. Still retreating, she looked over her shoulder at Lucifer who was leaning heavily against the bar for support and she was reminded how injured he was, of the swath of bruising adorning most of his torso, of the broken rib and abdominal cuts…

"Lucifer, I can't do this with Trixie here. Please," she had to calm down. They needed to talk about this, without an audience, but right now her only concern was her daughter.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

She closed her eyes, praying to a god she didn't believe in for strength. "I know but I keep telling you, control. If you can't control yourself, I can't trust you. Not at work, not around me, and definitely not around my daughter."

Maybe this would be easier if Lucifer did not look so thoroughly devastated. He was white as a corpse, eyes reddened.

"I can!" he protested loudly before seeming to realize how that had come off. "I can," he repeated at a whisper.

"I have to go. We'll… I'll see you again and we'll talk about this," she pressed the button for the elevator. "I'm not walking out on you okay? But I need space right now."

"Don't go. Please," he was begging her but Chloe Decker was a mother first and foremost.

"I can't."

'_People never stay.'_

"It just hurts." Lucifer fisted one of his hands in his robe, just above his heart. "It hurts and I don't want it to. I don't want anyone to have that power over me. Not by family, not Mazikeen, no one. Why won't it stop hurting?"

Chloe Decker was a mother first and foremost but she was also a person, and a compassionate one at that. And right now she was breaking in half for the two people who needed her. Trixie had gone alarmingly silent and Lucifer's admission of pain seared her chest.

"I have to go," she said again, stepping into the elevator.

The moment the doors closed, she was on her phone. "Dan, I need a huge favor…"

* * *

Long after the elevator doors closed, Lucifer continued to stare. He felt strangely removed from his body, unable to tell if he were even standing or floating. Something about that surely should have frightened him but he felt no fear. Why would he? Every bit of himself was currently enthralled in profound agony.

Slowly, feeling came back and with it, a strange coldness coming from a void deep in his gut. Hungrily it sucked at his heat, leeching the light away. On the outside he was the same temperature as always but his insides were frozen.

When enough time had passed that even he could not delude himself into thinking those elevator doors would open again, the Lightbringer limped to his bed, cast himself upon satin sheets, and curled up tightly. Tremors wracked his frame, sobs that he would not allow to escape left his chest heaving, back arching until his spine felt dangerously close to snapping.

He had blown it. Everything he touched was destroyed. Amenadiel had said it to him and it was the truth wasn't it? All the celestial blood spilled, the fights between his mother and father, who was to say he wasn't the cause of it all?

The pain of his injuries, which had compounded exponentially with Chloe's arrival, faded again. There was no relief though. He wanted the pain, needed it. Without it, he was alone with his thoughts and the damned ache in his chest.

"Are you lau-laughing Dad? Is this - this funny to you?" He wanted to add more, to scream for every moment of hurt he felt, to let Him taste the wounds which never healed, but speaking made it far more difficult to control his tears so he settled for silence. There was nothing he could say that had not been screamed by himself a thousand times before anyway. Repeating it would only show how little He cared.

Without his father to direct his anger towards, Lucifer only had one other option really.

Himself.

How could he ruin something as precious as Chloe Decker? She was scared of him, there was no denying that. And why shouldn't she be scared? He was a monster, the villain who ate souls and children alike, who convinced humans to kill and rape and torture on his behalf.

It was all rubbish of course, he didn't do any of those things. Yet everyone, human and celestial alike, wholeheartedly agreed with the assessment.

He had not anticipated losing control and yelling. In Hell, there had been no need for him to ever curb himself. Whatever he fancied, whether it be decapitating an errant demon or getting up close and personal with one the trapped souls, he could do. No one policed him or his actions, no one demanded he demonstrate any self control, and absolutely no one questioned him.

He shuddered, remembering the stark terror in Chloe's eyes when he had invoked his demonic voice. None of his anger should have been directed at her but he had been incapable of stopping whatever dam from bursting. Usually there were distractions, parties or late night visitors. Being denied that, and with Maze deciding she hated him again and storming off, there had been little else for him to do but stew.

Dr. Linda's betrayal, the realization that his sexual partners were only using him, Amenadiel refusing to give him any peace, Maze's constant demands he accompany her to Hell, his staff's unexpected abandonment, all of it had worn at him.

The first day after the fight at the pier, he had not been surprised by the lack of visitors. Maze had hung around, watching television with him and eating take away. They had talked long into the night, reminiscing about those few good moments in Hell. The next day had found her moody however, and far less sympathetic to his situation. By the third evening, Maze had begun to make herself scarce and Lucifer realized there were not going to be any other visitors.

He had felt a great shame in that though he had no idea why. Busying himself with paperwork was the only thing he could do to ignore the rapidly growing loneliness.

And then Chloe had called and he had convinced himself that none of it mattered anyway, that she was enough.

It was funny. In Hell, the isolation had never bothered him much. There had been no choice in it though. Assimilate or die, those had been the options so graciously bestowed to him by his father.

Earth had choices though, millions of them. With choices came the realization he could, theoretically, never be physically alone again. So to be denied what was right outside his window, to watch from his balcony as couples walked the streets below while he waited in the shadows alone hurt in a way he could not even begin to describe.

The next hour passed in a sort of lucid dream. He swapped from berating himself soundly for all his shortcomings to yearning for something to take the hurt away. He wished that Maze had not left, that she was here even just to tell him to grow a pair. More so, he wished they could spend one of those rare Hellish days in bed together where she would stroke his back and he would tell her nonsensical stories. No sex or pleasure, just affection.

Those days had been rare even in Hell though, three or four times a century. She would do no such thing for him now, not while she was on Earth at least. He mourned the loss though, almost as much as he mourned for Chloe. She could say all she wanted that she would return but he had seen that expression before.

She was never coming back.

At least, not in the way he would prefer. They may continue to work together but she would cease to mix their personal lives, he knew. Anger and irritation could be overcome but fear?

The muted ding of the elevator did not penetrate his self loathing. Neither did the heavy footsteps making their way through the main room and up the stairs to his bedroom. The flick of the light switch was similarly ignored, the blankets pulled high over his head blocking any light from penetrating.

The most unpleasant sound of Dan Espinoza talking however? No, not even a Devil spiraling could ignore _that._

"Lucifer? I'm uh… well I'm here. Which you know because I'm talking to you. Jesus fuck Dan that was smooth."

Lucifer agreed but he wasn't going to say that. Why was Dan even here?

"Hey, I know you're not asleep. At least, I think so." Footsteps came closer to the bed and Lucifer tensed beneath his blanket. "Ha! Yeah, you are awake. Come outta there man, we need to talk."

Talk? Was Dan perhaps here to tell him off for scaring Chloe? Maybe he would wave his gun around in the whole 'stay away from my girl' act. Lucifer wasn't entirely sure that sort of thing happened outside of the movies but one never knew. Old as he was, humans still managed to surprise him.

"Lucifer, seriously, knock it off," Dan's tone sobered some. "Chloe told me what happened. You really scared her but she's also concerned about you alright? She asked me to come out here."

"Daniel, please leave." Lucifer had meant to give his words a bite but instead they fell flat, a plea.

"I can't do that." A weight settled on the far side of the bed. "You know, I want to be angry. You screamed at my wife, scared my daughter. I should have marched in here, broken your nose, and gone for a drink at the Paddock."

"So why haven't you?" he challenged.

Dan was quiet for a long moment. "I can't pretend to understand what you're going through right now, being hunted by a sibling. Chloe's an only child. Obviously she understands the sibling bond but she's never experienced it. I have two brothers though so I know how badly their disappointment or lack of acceptance or whatever you want to call it can hurt. They're your first friends, the first ones you trust with your secrets. So when they turn their backs… yeah, it feels like the world's abandoned you."

"I don't need my siblings!" Lucifer snarled, though he stayed hidden under his blankets.

Dan ignored him. "Your brother, the one from the parking garage, older or younger?"

What did his birth order have to do with anything?

"Elder," he answered curtly.

"You guys ever gotten along?"

Yeah, yeah they had. Long before Father and his new projects, before Mum had become cold and conniving, before the Rebellion and the Fall, they'd been a family.

The ache in his chest grew tenfold at the memories of pulling pranks on each other and telling stories to scare the younger fledgling angels. He wanted to say something, a snappy comment to get Dan to leave but a terrible lump, hot and heavy, had taken residence in his throat.

"I used to get on well with my brothers when we were kids," Dan said, realizing no response from Lucifer would be coming. "But as we grew older, things changed. I guess you could say I was the well behaved one. I mean, I did stupid things like any teenager but I kept my nose clean. It wasn't always easy. We lived in a poor neighborhood and it's easy to get lost sometimes in all the drugs and gang crap. My younger brother started running with bad people and that was that. One day he was bugging me to play with him and the next he was coming home late and reeking of alcohol.

"I wasn't there when he died. I'd moved on, become a cop here and working my way up to detective. It was a drive-by, something to do with a gang turf war, we never got the full details." Dan took a deep breath. "I always wonder if things would have gone differently if I'd tried harder to help him. No matter what paths we'd taken, we were still brothers."

Lucifer had no idea what to say. People shared their desires with him all the time but not this sort of thing, not intimate details of their life.

"Daniel, I'm sorry," he said, knowing how inadequate the apology was.

"You remind me a bit of him, you know. He was so angry, I'm not even sure he knew at what. Don't get me wrong, we loved him, but when Dad's working two jobs to keep the family afloat and Mom is bedridden most days cause she's sick, sometimes people fall through the cracks. Even at his lowest point though, he had a great sense of humor. I wish I'd appreciated it more…"

Silence descended on the room as Dan finished his story and Lucifer peeled his blanket back, peeking his head out. Dan was hunched over on the corner of the bed, head supported in his hands. The look was so different from the man he had dubbed Detective Douche all that time ago. Never once had there been any inkling that this laid beneath the surface.

"Daniel, I'm sure your brother knew you loved him dearly. You didn't abandon him. Sometimes souls fall beyond redemption," Lucifer pushed himself to sit up, leaning against the headboard.

"I don't believe that," Dan said, turning sharply to face him. "He wasn't beyond redemption… and neither are you. I've done a lot of bad things in my life because I wasn't there for him. I hurt people I cared about and nearly fell down the same damn path. Chloe saved my life. She was so exceptional, still is, that I wanted to work every day to be better for her."

At the mention of Chloe, Lucifer's guilt returned with a strangling hold. He was suddenly desperate to make Dan understand how sorry he was.

"There are no words to describe how sorry I am for upsetting your family," Lucifer looked away. "I don't want to be the monster in Beatrice's nightmares."

Dan smiled tiredly. "You're not. She adores you, man. If anything, you're more upset than they are. I understand that. You got a raw deal and it's still following you and you hate that it got the best of you, even for just a second. You're a good guy though, even if you've got more issues than a submarine with screen doors."

Lucifer forced a chuckle at the weak joke. "I'm rather surprised Daniel, you're nothing like the emotionally stunted toad I thought you were."

"Look who's talking," Dan stood up, stretching. "You know, I've got an idea. Tomorrow's supposed to be my day off but I'm thinking maybe I should go into work."

"Okay," Lucifer said politely, not sure how Dan's work schedule affected him.

"I was supposed to watch Trixie after school until Chloe got off work but maybe you could look after her instead."

"That… doesn't seem like a good idea. The Detective was quite fearful about my outburst upsetting the little urchin."

Dan was already pulling out his phone and dialing a number. "I stopped at Chloe's before I came here, after both of them had had time to calm down, and we talked about some stuff. Here," he thrusted the phone at Lucifer, who automatically took it.

"Hello, Dan?" Chloe's voice reached him. "How is Lucifer? Did he do something stupid?"

"I haven't done anything stupid!" he protested.

The line crackled. "Lucifer? What are you doing with Dan's phone?"

"Well he called you and just handed it to me. I suppose that means I'm meant to speak with you?" He looked to Dan for confirmation only to find the detective was raiding his bar.

"Lucifer, about how we left things before-"

"I'm so deeply sorry, Detective," he cut across her in haste. "I never meant to scare you or your daughter. I am repulsed by my behavior and I assure you it will never happen again."

"It's not just your fault, I shouldn't have pushed what I knew was a sensitive topic with you. It wasn't appropriate."

"I refuse to allow you to take any blame for my own-"

"Lucifer please, you don't need to keep apologizing. I was wrong too. I panicked and said some things I shouldn't have. I _do_ trust you, not just as my partner but as my friend. The second I stepped in that elevator, I wanted to take it all back. I don't know what came over me."

He knew. Few humans could hear the voice of the Devil and not flee like rabbits catching the scent of a fox.

"Detective, I think you were right about me needing to return to therapy," he said, rising and beginning to pace. "I think it helps."

"Whatever you choose to do, I support you. But Lucifer, was Dr. Martin really sleeping with you?" Her tone was soft with concern and his inner turmoil eased under it like a caress.

"Yes, she was. When we discussed people using me, I realized it was the same with her. And these past few days, Maze and my staff leaving when I could not provide anything for them to take..I was hurt. I thought maybe they were friends too, like you. But I was wrong"

Chloe sucked in a breath. "Lucifer, I don't…"

"I know. It's okay. You were right before, you're not my therapist and I shouldn't treat you like one. When Lux reopens, everything will fall back into place."

"You know, Dan and I were discussing maybe you watching Trixie for a bit tomorrow. I think it would do both of you some good. It was nice seeing the two of you getting along so well before"

"Are you sure?" Lucifer could not forget the wild terror in her blue eyes. He doubted he ever would.

"I said it before, I _do_ trust you," she said firmly. "Dan's going to pick her up from school and drop her off at your penthouse… assuming it's okay with you. It would just be for a few hours. You're both worried about each other so this should alleviate that."

"It's fine. I would very much like to spend some time with Beatrice actually. I was not a very good host tonight and I dislike when my guests leave with bad impressions."

Chloe laughed and with the sound, relief thundered down on Lucifer so strongly, he thought his legs would buckle. He had come close to losing something precious tonight, something he had only just to realize he had. Never again would he jeopardize this gift.

The two bade farewell and hung up, Lucifer unable to fight off a delighted grin. Sauntering down the stairs, his knee hardly twanged anymore, he found Dan nursing a glass of whiskey.

"Thank you, Daniel," he handed the phone over but calling Chloe was not really what he was grateful for.

Dan understood, eyes softening. "Of course man, anytime. We're friends right?"

"Yes, we are," he reached across to grab the whiskey bottle for himself. "Out of curiosity, why were you all so quick to forgive me?"

"I don't know how you did, but you've managed to squirm your way right into our inner circle. If we always abandoned each other when life got rough, we'd all be pretty lonely."

And for the first time in five days, Lucifer didn't give a damn about his brother. He was building something here, a real life, and not even God himself could take that away from him.


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N - __So here is the long promised fluff! On a more serious note, I hope everyone is safe and well during this uncertain time. In an attempt to offer a bit of distraction, I will be doing a set of requested one shots all for Lucifer. If you have a request, leave a comment and I'll try to release one a day until I run out. This is truly an incredible community and in this troubling time, I believe it is more important than ever to try and help one another however possible._

_Special thank you to Sapphire's Ink, the-darker-side-of-things, Cathy Sullins, Verge of Chaos, OldGirl-NoraArlani, Laetitia-chan, Jo38916791, and everyone else who comments, favorites, or follows._

_I hope everyone enjoys this very special chapter!_

**Chapter Twelve - Tomorrow Is Another Day**

Lucifer had once thought himself to be the expert on torture. He could make any nerve on the human body scream with fiery agony, coax scream after scream from souls until their larynx tore under the strain. In Hell, he had rarely used weapons or fists. The mind was its own worst torture device, giving him endless ammunition. After all, what was worse, flaying someone alive or making them believe you would for centuries?

Earth had developed its own tortures in the time he had spent away, however. Currently, he was captured in one of those Hellish devices.

Walmart.

Lucifer may not have understood much about children but even he was aware that all living things needed to eat. Which was why he had ventured out of Lux for the first time in a week upon realizing his fridge was devoid of anything even approaching edible for Trixie.

He should have known the trip was going to be taxing when none of the spots in the pothole riddled parking lot were big enough to comfortably house his convertible. Double parking had been the only option to keep his vehicle safe.

Then there was the walk to the actual store. Humans really were terrible drivers, despite it being their main mode of transport. Twice he was nearly clipped by someone trying to secure a prized spot close to the entrance. His shouts of outrage were largely ignored, as if he were the one being unreasonable after almost being mowed down by a bloody soccer mom.

Naively, he had assumed the store itself could not possibly be as traumatic as the parking lot. He realized his mistake not three steps in when he was accosted by the scent of a food court, cleaning supplies, and newly dyed fabrics. Covering his nose with his sleeve, he hastily grabbed a plastic basket from the stack by the entrance and hurried to the food section of the store.

Lucifer usually found shopping to be quite enjoyable. Wandering through aisles and simply marveling at humanities different inventions was an easy way to pass the time. It was one of those rare instances where nothing was expected of him. Of course, salesmen would occasionally follow him around but even that was great fun. Humans working a job as soul sucking as retail were always willing to make a deal with the Devil.

Food shopping, however, was something he had never done before. And after spending all of thirty seconds maneuvering around women with screaming toddlers strapped into carts, he was wishing Judgement Day would reschedule itself for right about now.

Evidently he was underpaying Patrick to get his groceries. How did the poor man struggle through this every week and not commit a murder?

Basket held in front of him as a shield, he walked down each aisle with a critical eye. Halfway through, he realized he had no idea what a child would actually like to eat.

Starting again at the beginning with produce, he decided to forgo the vegetables. From what he'd seen of sitcoms, a child's hatred of anything green and healthy was near universal. Did that hatred of green things carry to fruits too? Better not get a watermelon, just in case. Though now that he thought about it, watermelons were red inside. Was it the interior or exterior colors that children had a problem with? What about pistachios?

Helplessly, he looked around for some sign which would point him to where the children's food was kept. There were many labels slapped haphazardly around the store but most were just displaying that week's deals or informing patrons that the store batteries were in aisle two.

Lucifer was eighty percent certain humans could not eat batteries though.

He wanted to go slow and examine every item one by one but he was jostled relentlessly by mothers who sped through the store at a furious pace, as if involved in a race. As he bowed low over the eggplants - and why the hell were they so low to the floor anyway? - a shopping cart smashed into his hip.

He tensed, expecting pain to flower through his leg but was surprised when he felt nothing, not even a twinge.

The woman who had hit him was already hurrying off but he paid her no mind, more interested in his newly awoken invulnerability. There was a greasy smear on his pant leg, proof he had been hit, but he'd felt nothing except a slight pressure, no more forceful than the caress of sunlight on a summer day.

Thoughtfully, he rubbed at the stain, somewhat irritated to see it was not coming out. Invulnerable or not, he would rather be disemboweled than wander around in ruined clothes. The fact that the grease was barely noticeable against the charcoal grey color of his pants was besides the point. Now he had seen it, there was no possible way to ignore it.

While he had fussed over his appearance, the store had grown even more congested. There was hardly a place to stand, carts set up in an intricate maze around the various fruit stands. Warily, Lucifer retreated to a corner of the produce section, prepared to wait out the sudden assault.

One of the most important lessons in Heaven had been to know when a fight simply wasn't worth it. And as Lucifer had already experienced one fashion casualty, he was not willing to risk another.

Of course, waiting was even more boring than food shopping. He managed to stay still for an entire thirty seconds before aggravation won out.

He was Lucifer bloody Morningstar! A celestial ruler in his own right. Nothing on Earth, not even this blasted place, could contain him.

Striding out of his corner confidently, his feet were promptly run over by a shopping cart.

"Oi!" he snarled, jerking back.

The woman steering the cart had murder in her eyes as she scowled back. "Watch where you're going!"

"I beg your pardon?" He was not accustomed to being addressed that way. Ever. "You are the one who collided with me! I believe an apology is in order."

"Why should I apologize for your stupidity?" The woman shoved past him to get a better look at the carrots.

The dismissal did not sit well with Lucifer. How dare a human take that tone with him? He, who had once lit up the sky with his stars and then ruled hordes of demons, becoming their sole superior?

But he had promised the Detective he could control himself…

Taking a deep breath like Dr. Martin had often advised him to do when he struggled to contain his anger, he did not retort. Sweeping past the woman's cart however, he gave it a none too gentle push, taking immense satisfaction in the way it rolled away and crashed into a display of apples.

The apple stand must not have been durable though because one of the sides promptly caved in, sending fruits rolling every which way. Several people tripped, one unfortunate soul taking a headlong dive to the floor. In moments there was pandemonium, workers descending on the mess while a manager, easily identified by the tapeworm of a vein throbbing in his temple, shouted needlessly.

Lucifer used the distraction to slide into the snack aisle and grab things at random. Anything with a colorful package went into his basket. Was any of it edible? He had no idea but he was not spending another second in this infernal Hellhole!

Tossing his purchases down at the checkout counter, he watched as a few more store attendees and janitors rushed to collect the spilled apples, which had begun to roll into other sections of the store.

Okay, maybe shopping wasn't entirely intolerable.

He left decided more jovially than he had first arrived, long arms laden with stuffed plastic bags. It wasn't until he was halfway back to Lux that he remembered the possibility of his returning immortality and by then, he had more pressing things to worry about. Namely, how to apologize to a child he had terrified not twelve hours ago.

Chloe and Dan forgiving him so suddenly had gone a long way to soothing his paranoid mind but even as he later put his new purchases away in the kitchen, Lucifer felt tense.

Children were always more adept than adults at sensing evil. It was almost as if they could smell the lingering scent of Hellfire, which never entirely left him no matter how he scrubbed or tried to mask it will cologne. Convincing children he was actually the Devil was stupidly easy because a part of them seemed to know it long before they knew his name. He suspected the ability was something his father had fostered in his creations. Just as a human child immediately felt safe in the presence of an angel, they became wary near the Devil.

This aversion burned off as they aged. By adulthood, every human easily fell for his charms and it was instead angels who made them nervous. He had only seen it happen a few times when Amenadiel wanted to drag him back to Hell, but the reactions of mortals were always the same.

Lucifer suspected that whatever innocence a child carried had well and truly disintegrated by the time they were adults. At that point, they found far more in common with himself than one of his siblings.

Or it could just be Amenadiel was so massively unpleasant that every human found him unlikable, what with his pretentious tendencies and scowling brow.

Lucifer endorsed both theories.

He was just putting away the final box of cookies - he had somehow bought four during his tactical retreat - when the elevator dinged to announce visitors. In the near silence of the penthouse and lower floors, the sound was strangely loud and echoing.

Closing the cupboard, he entered the main room and found Dan waiting, a unicorn backpack swinging loosely in his hand.

"A pink man purse? I would have thought you more of a fairy sort of man than a unicorn but to each his own I suppose," Lucifer greeted.

Dan smiled easily, an indication at just how far they had come in the last twenty-four hours. "Pink's not really my color. I'm more of a purple guy."

"Then how come you picked it out?" Trixie asked, stepping out from where she had been hiding behind Dan.

Lucifer wilted, the lightness of a moment ago extinguished. "Hello Beatrice," he said soberly.

Her dark eyes, so unlike her parents', flashed. "I hate Beatrice," she informed him rather severely.

Dan looked between the two of them uncertainly, a feeling Lucifer shared. What was he supposed to do, just apologize or should he offer something? Money perhaps? The girl seemed angry at him and he couldn't blame her. After his reaction the previous night she must be-

Trixie unexpectedly launched herself at him, gripping tightly to his waist and just like that the uncertainty vanished. Reaching down to pat at her head, Lucifer looked to Dan who was not even trying to hide his grin.

"I told you last night, you're forgiven. I thought you believed me?"

Lucifer had believed Dan, or tried to at least. In his experience, forgiveness was one of those things he was just not entitled to. When he had first been cast out, no one had bothered to inform him that his change in residence was permanent. He had played nice for centuries, expecting to be forgiven and let back up in Heaven sooner or later. After eons of radio silence, as kingdoms came and crumbled with time, he had eventually realized he would never be allowed back.

Eternity though was a rather abstract concept when even the end of days would not be the end of you. The Earth would boil itself alive or be swallowed by the sun eventually and he'd remain beyond Heaven's gate, alone.

Forever.

Dan's smile faltered at the prolonged silence. "Trixie? Why don't you start your homework? I want to talk to Lucifer for a minute."

Hesitantly, Trixie released Lucifer, who was immensely grateful the touching was over, and took her bag from Dan. As she busied herself unpacking a pencil case and notebook, Lucifer led Dan towards his desk, a partial glass wall separating it from the living space.

"Yes Daniel?"

Dan reached into his back pocket and produced a folded bit of paper. "Chloe wanted me to give this to you. She also wanted me to watch you read it to make sure you didn't just throw it away."

Taking the offered paper, Lucifer unfolded it and was greeted by a list of bullet points:

\- I packed Trixie with a snack of fruit and a granola bar. If she wants to eat anything else, she has to finish that first.

\- She can't watch TV or use her phone until her homework is done.

\- You can help with her homework if she needs it but don't just give her the answers.

\- No sugar after five, including juice or soda.

\- She can't watch anything on TV rated PG-13 or higher.

\- If I need to contact you, I'll call Trixie's phone.

\- You're allowed to tell her no if there's something you don't want her to do or touch. It's your house and she has to follow your rules.

\- That being said, if she misbehaves, let me know and I will deal with it later.

Lucifer huffed in exasperation as he finished reading the list but it was mostly an act. He was actually grateful Chloe had taken the time to lay everything out for him. The last thing he wanted was to screw this up.

"Pfft, I know all this," he told Dan, setting the list down on his desk.

Dan rolled his eyes. "Dude, you tried to play fetch with my daughter."

"Well dogs do it! How was I supposed to know children don't like chasing things?"

"Because children aren't dogs?"

Lucifer disagreed. Children were pets plain and simple, if slightly more intelligent.

"Well I should be getting back to the station," Dan said. "When are you coming back to work?"

"I would have come in tomorrow but it's the Detective's day off so I suppose Thursday."

"Good. We keep hitting dead ends and it's driving me crazy."

"How is the case progressing?" Lucifer asked, genuinely curious. Nothing even remotely interesting had happened at Lux in the past week and he was desperate for any sort of news from the precinct, even if it was something as mundane as getting a new coffee maker.

"We finally put together a timeline for the night Anthony Stone died. Apparently, he attended his classes, went to soccer practice, and then stayed in his girlfriend's dorm room until ten," Dan rattled off the details so confidently they might as well have been tattooed onto the inside of his eyelids. "He drove home and that's where we lost him. His car was parked in the driveway but his parents don't remember hearing him come in."

"You think he was abducted in his front yard?"

Dan shrugged. "We don't know. There's no sign of a struggle but we have forensics going over the Stones' property. Either he was forcibly taken from there or he left voluntarily because he definitely didn't make it inside his house that night."

Lucifer nodded thoughtfully but otherwise didn't add anything. His expertise was in people, not clue finding. Once a suspect was identified, he would have his turn.

"You know, you don't have to stay away from the precinct when Chloe's not around." Dan rubbed the back of his neck, eyes averted. "I mean, technically as a consultant you can work with any partner-less officer."

"There's not anyone else I want to work with." As far as he was concerned, he was only Chloe's partner.

Dan groaned. "I meant me, man."

Lucifer blinked. "Oh… well thank you Daniel. Why though? I've never gotten the feeling you particularly approve of my methods."

"Because threatening suspects isn't considered a method unless you're in North Korea," Dan muttered. Louder, he said, "it's just something to think about is all. I didn't mean we should make a permanent switch or anything."

Lucifer wasn't really sure why Dan was offering to work with him. Perhaps his solve rate was down and he needed a Devilish boost…

"I gotta go, my lunch break is almost up. Are you good here?"

"Yes Daniel, Beatrice will be fine."

"She's not the one I'm worried about," Dan tossed over his shoulder as he went to kiss Trixie goodbye. "Be good okay? Your mom should be here by six to get you."

Trixie, who had climbed onto one of the bar stools to do her work, hugged Dan. "I'm always good."

"Sure you are. Love you." He stepped into the elevator. "Lucifer? I'll see you Thursday."

"Bye Daddy!" Trixie called at the doors slid closed.

And now Lucifer was, for the very first time in his impossibly long life, alone with a child.

He wasn't scared, that was preposterous! Though now that he was over here, his bookshelves looked like they could use some re-organizing. And if he was going to go through the laborious task of re-alphabetizing - first by century, then by author's middle initial and genre of course - he might as well dust too. Just dusting the bookcases wouldn't do though. His desk could do with a good once over too…

"Lucifer?" Trixie called, turning part way in her seat to see him, "Can you come here?"

Right, helping with homework. No problem. He had seen some of Trixie's schoolwork hung up on Chloe's fridge and it was hardly what he would classify as difficult. Of course, the task would be even easier if they forwent it entirely but he doubted Chloe would be appreciative if her daughter did not finish her homework.

"What is it, urchin?" He settled onto the bar stool beside her, elbows resting on the bar top.

Trixie had set up a large box of crayons along with several sheets of blank white paper, much to Lucifer's confusion. He expected to see math problems or history questions, not a coloring assignment.

"I have to draw a picture for school," Trixie said, perusing her collection of crayons with fierce concentration. "Do you want to draw too?"

Color? The Devil most certainly did _not_ color. Sure, he had sketched his fair share of dirty pictures for Maze but that was about the extent of his artistic ventures.

"No, I'd rather not if it's all the same."

"Why not? Mommy draws with me."

Well that changed things a bit. Everyone could say all they wanted that he was forgiven but Lucifer didn't feel like he was. The erosive guilty edge remained, though shopping for Trixie had lessened it a bit. Being an exemplary babysitter today though, perhaps that would be enough. If Trixie gave him a glowing review, perhaps he would be able to forget Chloe's stark terror at his outburst.

Trixie must have sensed his weakening resolve, her eyes narrowing slyly. "Daddy draws with me too," she informed him.

Lucifer huffed. He may have become friendly with Daniel but that did little to suppress the inane urge to outdo the other male.

"Fine fine. I suppose I ought to set an example." He reached over, plucking a piece of paper off the stack and setting it before himself neatly. "Now, what am I to do?"

Trixie grinned, moving the box of crayons between them. "Well first, you draw yourself in the center." She picked out one of the black crayons and began to draw a recognizable, if disproportionate, human child.

Lucifer watched for a moment before selecting a few crayons himself. For several minutes, he struggled with how to hold such a tiny implement with his large hand. He settled for pinching the crayon between his thumb and first finger in a clumsy but sufficient hold.

Trixie was taking her time, making an outline and then coloring in a red shirt and blue pants, same as the clothes she was currently wearing. Lucifer looked down at himself, gauging his own attire. He had changed out of his charcoal suit from before and was now wearing one of his many black outfits with a purple shirt.

Picking up the crayon box, and simultaneously ignoring Trixie's protests, he searched for a purple close enough to what he was wearing. Though the box boasted having every single color, he could not find one even remotely close to his shirt.

"Your crayons are faulty." He set the box back down.

"Faulty?" Trixie questioned.

"Oh right, minuscule brain. Your crayon box claims to have every color represented and it does not. There's no purple matching my shirt."

Instead of feeling affronted on his behalf, Trixie giggled. "You're funny. Let me see." After a cursory look, she plucked out a crayon and handed it to him. "Here, this one is _Purple Mountains' Majesty_."

Lucifer snorted. "Surely that's not its name? It's preposterous. Clearly, that crayon is a mulberry color."

Trixie shrugged, unconcerned. "Maybe there's two names for the same color."

"You can't have two names for a color!" Lucifer protested.

"Why not? Other things can have two names," Trixie looked confused, head cocked to the side. "_You_ have two names."

"The different names for the Devil are culturally influenced. Colors are universal." How had he gotten into this argument? "If I want to order a shirt, I can't bloody well call it _Purple Mountains' Majesty_. They won't know what I am referring to."

"If you're going to make fun of my crayons, then you can't use them," Trixie reached for the one still in his hand.

He jerked his hand out of reach. "I thought you wanted me to color with you? Letting me off the hook would be the opposite of punishment."

Trixie looked down. "I thought you'd like it. Everyone likes to color. But it's okay. I'll do my work and you can do something else."

To Lucifer's dismay, Trixie lips warbled. "Come now, you're not sad, this is just emotional manipulation right?" As Trixie's eyes screwed up, he panicked. "Okay okay, I'll color alright? Just… don't cry please."

Trixie's face cleared suddenly and she was once again grinning. "Okay."

Lucifer sputtered. "You were manipulating me you imp!" He leaned closer, now curious. "Does it actually work? I've never used the threat of crying to get my way."

"Oh yeah, especially with Daddy. I get in trouble when I do it though cause then Daddy cries too."

"I had no idea Daniel was so soft."

"He cries at the end of Toy Story 3 every time even though he pretends it's just allergies. Mommy says I can't tease him for it though or he'll get upset."

"Fascinating. You're quite devious aren't you?" Lucifer returned to his paper, deciding to just use a red crayon for his shirt instead.

"I'm an angel." Trixie's eyes widened in her most innocent look and Lucifer found himself genuinely laughing in response.

For a while, they each focused on their own projects, only speaking to exchange crayons. Lucifer was not altogether satisfied with his final product, the figure was decidedly crooked, but he thought he had captured his essence enough for it to be a passable caricature.

"Okay urchin, now what?" He checked her own drawing, surprised to see how much more detail she had managed.

"Now you add in your family around you. See, I'm gonna put Mommy on this side and Daddy on the other side," she pointed to the blank spaces on either side of herself.

"Oh, right," he scratched the back of his head. "I don't think I should. Might ruin the picture."

Trixie watched him with that searching gaze he was so accustomed to receiving from her mother. Her dark eyes, nothing like her parents', were worried and his own gaze dropped away, unable to handle being the center of her obvious concern. The weakness he was displaying bothered him plenty but removing himself from the situation would destroy any last bits of dignity he had.

How could a mere child make him feel this way? He, the Devil, who cared nothing for the opinions of others.

"Family isn't just who you're related to," Trixie said quietly and Lucifer looked up in spite of himself.

"Explain."

Trixie turned in her seat to face him fully, knees nearly touching his thigh. "My teacher said today that family is whoever we care about a lot. That can be friends and neighbors and stuff."

Friends? Well he had those. Two of them in fact, both by their own admission. He didn't want his friends to be family though. His family were the ones who had betrayed him, thrown him from their home and into a pit of fire to possibly burn for all of eternity. The demons could have eaten him alive and his siblings would have cared less. When they did bother to visit, once or twice a millennia, they conducted their business with barely veiling disgust, as if he had chosen to live this way, amongst the brimstone and damned souls. They sneered at his court of demons and mocked the lonely tower he inhabited. Those with whom he shared, if not blood then certainly divinity, had turned absolutely remorseless.

So no, he could not count friends as family because as he had learned time and again, no one had the ability to hurt quite like those closest to you.

"Lucifer?"

He blinked, shaking off the claws of melancholy. "Yes urchin?"

"Please don't be sad. I'm sorry." Trixie knelt on her bar stool, resting her hands on his knees for balance.

Lucifer looked down at her hands, incredibly small when compared to his own. Would she ever grow to adult size? It didn't seem possible.

Despite how small her hands were, they radiated warmth, the heat of her palms seeping through his pant legs. He tensed under her touch initially but uncoiled when no harm was forthcoming.

"Don't be sorry, you haven't done anything. And never apologize if you're not in the wrong, others will walk all over you," he said.

Trixie gripped his knees hard. "But saying sorry makes people feel better. I don't want you to be sad."

"I'm not sad." Which wasn't a lie, not that he was capable of that. Eons ago he had been sad and hurt and angry but now? Now he was… numb.

"Can we watch tv now? I don't want to color anymore. Besides, it's not due until Monday."

Lucifer considered following Chloe's rules and refusing the request but found he couldn't. After all, he was the reason why Trixie now felt bad, that much was obvious even to him.

"What would you like to watch?" he asked, standing.

Trixie slid off her own stool and grabbed Lucifer's picture. "Wait, we need to hang this up."

Lucifer had no interest in putting his "artwork" anywhere. "Why don't you keep it instead? A memento if you will. Actually, that paper is quite valuable. All these centuries and this is the only drawing the Devil has ever done."

His words elicited a weak laugh from Trixie but she did as she suggested, folding the paper carefully and placing it in her backpack along with her crayons. When she was finished re-packing, the two of them settled on the couch.

Trixie immediately flipped to some channel with many revoltingly bright commercials accompanied by unnecessarily clashing sounds and music.

"What in the world are you watching?" he asked, exasperated, as yet another commercial jingle sung by off key children grated against his trained ear.

"Nickelodeon. Spongebob is on." Trixie's eyes never faltered from the screen.

What the Hell was a Spongebob?

Lucifer's unvoiced question was most unfortunately answered not ten seconds later when the most grating, obnoxious opening theme ever created played, accompanied by, of all things, a dancing kitchen sponge.

"You watch this regularly?"

"Every day. Daddy loves Spongebob too."

Lucifer made a mental note to never trust Daniel's taste in… well, anything. Surely he didn't enjoy this? The talking kitchen sponge was horrific enough but at least he was almost bearable. The slow pink starfish on the other hand? What utter rubbish.

"I like that one," he said some time later, pointing to a character with a large nose.

Trixie made a face. "Squidward? You're not supposed to like him, he's mean."

"Delightfully so and he's sarcastic. Why is he not the main character? He's the only one with an ounce of sense."

After several hours of Bikini Bottoms - and what a cheeky name that was - the cartoon's mini marathon finally ended. Lucifer was just preparing to snatch the remote while Trixie wasn't paying attention when her phone rang.

"Hi Mommy!" she answered, lowering the television volume and placing the remote out of Lucifer's reach. "Yes, I'm fine… Hold on," she held the phone out to Lucifer. "Mommy wants to talk to you."

"Hello Detective," he all but purred, envisioning her look of exasperation.

"Hey Lucifer, how is everything?"

"Fine. The little urchin ate the food you packed her and now we're watching television. I am concerned about her show preferences though. This Spongebob show isn't remotely appealing in any way. I never put much stock into the idea of watching television making children stupider but now I'm wonder-"

Chloe cut across him. "Yes, I know. I'd rather she didn't watch it either. Dan is the one who loves cartoons, not me. Listen, I called to let you know I'm going to be late. Forensics found some things for the case and we're all going to be here late unfortunately."

"Take all the time you need, Detective. I don't mind." He looked over, annoyed to find Trixie was flipping through the channels.

"You can order take out or something for dinner if you want, it's Friday night so I guess Trixie can have it as a treat. I'll reimburse you of course."

"No need, it's my treat."

Chloe sighed. "You don't have to keep apologizing okay? Really, everything's fine."

"I'm not doing it to apologize!" He protested. "A good host always provides food for their guests."

She laughed and even through the phone that simple sound made his gut warm pleasantly. It was nice to hear her talk, even if only to discuss the child. He really had missed her terribly these last few days in isolation.

"Thank you Lucifer, really. I know this isn't easy for you."

"It is actually. Beatrice is no trouble at all." And he meant it too. Hanging around Trixie was enjoyable. In a few years, when she was more adept at conversation, he expected she would become quite the interesting banter partner. Her tongue was already quick. Once her wit was developed a bit more, he had no doubt she would excel in verbal sparring.

"She better not be trouble," Chloe was mock serious. "Otherwise she'll be doing chores all weekend. Actually, could you do me a huge favor?"

"Anything you desire." He leaned over, making for the remote but Trixie slid out of reach.

"If I'm not there by eight, could you bring her home? I know it's a lot to ask but she doesn't do well with being woken in the middle of the night which is what will happen if she falls asleep at your place and then I pick her up."

"Of course Detective, it's no trouble."

"Thank you so much. The spare key is under the potted plant on the front porch. Trixie knows where it is." There were the sounds of voices and then Chloe continued. "I gotta go, we're about to have a briefing. Tell Trixie I love her and Lucifer, really, thank you for this."

"Good luck Detective," he hung up and handed the phone back to Trixie.

As Trixie grabbed it, he reached around her and stole the remote.

"Hey!" she protested.

"If you let me watch what I want for a bit, you can choose whatever you want for dinner."

That got Trixie's attention and she was remarkably quiet for the next fifteen minutes while Lucifer searched for something more to his taste. Unfortunately, his preference for swearing and violence meant most shows and movies he had any interest in were rated PG13 or higher, above what Trixie was allowed to watch. He went through every channel twice before admitting defeat, giving the remote back to her and enduring another round of cartoons, this time something with fairies and magic.

At six, they ordered dinner. Trixie had requested tacos and Lucifer had decided to order from three of his favorite places so they could have a bit of taste testing. There had been an awkward moment, not for Lucifer obviously, when all three delivery boys had taken the elevator up to the penthouse together. After paying everyone and setting them on their way with generous tips, Lucifer spread the collection all over his living room table. He and Trixie devoured the oversized meal, comparing notes on what they sampled.

Once dinner was finished, it was near enough to eight for Lucifer to take Trixie home. Cleaning up, he left a note for Maze just in case she stopped by. He doubted she would, he hadn't seen her for five days now, but he knew she would be pissed if he didn't.

At Trixie's insistence, they took the Corvette. Lucifer kept closer to the speed limit than normal, well aware how furious Chloe would be if he drove recklessly with a child in the passenger seat, but Trixie was delighted all the same.

They arrived at the Decker's residence and Lucifer unlocked the door with a simple touch.

"How did you do that?" Trixie asked. "You don't have a key."

"Nothing can hold the Devil, neither lock nor knot," he informed her as they took off their shoes.

Trixie disappeared to her room and Lucifer sprawled on the couch to wait for Chloe's return. He felt unusually lethargic, almost sleepy despite the late hour. Lazily, he rifled through the drawers of the end tables but that was the extent of his snooping. By the time Trixie reappeared, now in pajamas, his sight was fuzzy and he felt boneless.

"Goodnight Lucifer," Trixie came up. "Can I hug you?"

He opened one arm, wincing as she clamored into his lap, tiny knees finding sensitive spots like heat seeking missiles.

"I had fun today. You're a great babysitter," she whispered, drawing back from him.

"To my immense surprise, I too had fun."

Trixie smiled crookedly, revealing her missing front teeth. "I know you don't like your family, but maybe me and Mommy can be yours instead."

Whatever quip Lucifer had planned died on his tongue. "I… I would like that, Spawn."

She gave him another quick hug and jumped off the couch, retreating to her room.

For a bit, Lucifer sat in the near silence, broken only by the sound of waves from the beach, allowing it to lull him. He had just enough sense to lay down before sleep crashed down on him.

* * *

Chloe felt terrible as she drove home. Initially when she'd told Lucifer to take Trixie home, she had expected to get out of work by nine at the latest. It was currently half past midnight.

Lucifer was probably pacing, waiting for her to get home so he could leave. Not that she could blame him. He had signed up to babysit for a few hours, not the entire evening. She'd make it up to him somehow, maybe take him out to dinner some night. Not as a date obviously. No, just a nice, platonic dinner at one of those hole in the wall places her father had loved so dearly.

Pulling into her driveway, she parked alongside Lucifer's convertible. All the lights in her house were off, not even the dim flash of the television set peeking out from behind the curtains.

Lucifer must have fallen asleep and she winced at the thought of him on her too small couch.

Unless he was in her bed which would be crossing every damn line in the book and sounded exactly like something he would do.

She already had her lecture prepared when she unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking on the kitchen light. Dropping her work bag onto the dining room table, she went to check on Trixie and froze at the sight that greeted her.

Lucifer was on the couch, feet dangling off the end so he could fit. But it wasn't his understanding of boundaries that had stopped her cold.

At some point, Trixie must have snuck out of her room and joined him because she was currently curled into his side, one of his long arms looped loosely around her like she was a teddy bear.

It was one of those sights that caused tears to spring to Chloe's eyes. Covering her mouth, she watched the two of them for a moment, their chests rising and falling as they slept.

Approaching the couch, she contemplated waking Lucifer before deciding to just let him stay. There was no way he would be able to get up without also waking Trixie. More so than that, he looked completely at peace. The bruises on his face were hardly noticeable anymore, even to her, a massive improvement to just the previous day.

Taking the trusty blanket folded across the back of the armchair, she unfolded it and carefully spread it over her partner and daughter. Trixie remained absolutely dead to the world but Lucifer stirred, snuffling in confusion before rolling onto his side, dragging Trixie with him and resettling her in the hollow of his curled form.

Chloe could have spent the rest of the night watching the two of them but resisted the urge. She had to get some sleep, having promised Trixie a trip to the beach the next day. Leaning over, she kissed Trixie.

Lucifer grumbled and, without much thought, Chloe brushed a few rebellious curls off his forehead and kissed him as well. It took her mind a moment to catch up with the rest of her and when it did, a blush flamed across her face. Jerking back, she rubbed hard at her face.

She'd kissed him because she was tired. It didn't mean anything. It couldn't. She wouldn't let it.

She continued the mantra as she climbed the stairs to her own room, undressing for bed and sliding into the welcoming embrace of cool sheets. Yet as she lay there, she wondered why she should feel badly about the kiss. It had been so innocent, not driven by desire or attraction.

Right?

Chloe was thankful she was so tired. Despite the literal circus her mind had become, sleep came quickly to her.


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N - As promised, another chapter of fluff AND even some plot!_

_Special thank you to Cathy Sullins, the-darker-side-of-things, XxSchlottixX, OldGirl-NoraArlani, Laetitia-chan, tsunamicats, sammysusan, GinsengH, and everyone else who comments, follows, or favorites. Due to dodgy internet, I wasn't able to respond to most people who commented last chapter but know I read all of them._

_I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!_

**Chapter Thirteen - Title and Registration**

The warehouse roof was cool without the sun to warm the metal surface. Amenadiel was impervious to the decreasing temperature though, even with the crisp ocean breeze against his bare arms and head. He was crouched atop a warehouse on the south-most edge of the dockyard, sheltered by duct work. From here he had a relatively undisturbed view of both the parking lot and shipyard.

Neither of these were of much interest to him though.

A siren wailed from nearby, a long, high pitched tone which repeated twice before fading away in a mournful yowl. Amenadiel winced in displeasure at the noise, a few feathers ruffling in agitation, but otherwise he remained still. Below him, workers in blue uniforms began to pour from the various buildings as the day shift ended. If any of them happened to look up, he would certainly be spotted but he felt no concern. He had learned early on in his reconnaissance of the area that when a human was leaving work, their focus was directed towards little else.

When the number of cars in the parking lot had dwindled to just one lone blue pickup, he finally rose to his feet. He flexed his back experimentally, trying to shake the stiffness in his wings. Since his fight with Lucifer nearly a week ago his wings had been too damaged to fold out of existence. He was thankful nothing had been broken at least. Even Lucifer, wrathful as he could be, knew better than to severely damage another angel's wings.

The sun dipped low, kissing the ocean with a thin strip of yellow before fading to purple. The encroaching darkness was what Amenadiel had been waiting for. Spreading his wings, he pushed off from the edge of the roof and glided to the next warehouse over. Landing somewhat clumsily, he approached the roof access door, knowing from his observations that it would not be locked. Many of the workers liked to come up here for their smoke breaks as there were no security cameras.

Opening the door, mindful of any creaks, he stepped into a narrow stairwell lit by a few exposed wall lights. Tucking his wings flush to his back, he descended the stairs. At the bottom was another door, this one with a small glass window. Peering through, he saw stacks upon stacks of shipping containers.

When Maze had first told him this was the location of his brother's severed wings, he'd had trouble believing her. He knew Lucifer did not think too fondly of the appendages but locking them away in a dingy warehouse was a little extreme. Maze had been adamant though, providing him with all the information he needed to locate the container.

A flashlight beam cut through the semidarkness, no more than ten feet from the door. Pulling back sharply, Amenadiel cursed himself. He had forgotten that he would not be the only one about tonight. The night watchman, the owner of the blue pickup still in the lot, would also be doing his rounds.

He could have simply slowed time but a part of Amenadiel wanted to do this without his abilities. Besting Lucifer without invoking his divinity felt like a way to prove his superiority over his younger brother. Losing their last fight still stung more than he cared to admit, especially with Lucifer's divinity as depleted as it was. He might as well have lost to a common demon.

The flashlight beam disappeared and Amenadiel chanced another look out the window.

Nothing moved.

Testing the door, he again found it to be unlocked. Either Lucifer was exceptionally confident that no one would ever steal from him or he was just being his typical careless self.

Stepping through onto the main floor, he looked around curiously. Every container was marked with white blocky numbers. He was looking for a red container, marked 420. The number had surprised him some - he had expected Lucifer to choose something more along the lines of 666 - but the choice of color was so predictable it hurt.

The containers did not appear to be organized in any particular order and it took some time for him to finally locate his target. Thankfully, the container was on the floor and easily accessible.

As he approached the front, he came across the first bit of security he had encountered all evening. Most of the containers were locked with simple deadbolts and padlocks. Lucifer's container was quite a bit different, mainly, because it had no lock.

Frowning, Amenadiel ran his hand along the smooth surface, searching for a trigger or something to open the door. As he prodded, a bit of the metal door shifted. He withdrew his hand, half expecting something of Hellish design to leap out and attack. Instead, all that happened was a key code screen popped out.

The screen blinked, asking for a four number code.

From somewhere, a loud noise echoed and Amenadiel was reminded he was on a timetable. Forgoing the key code, he simply punched the door. The first hit crumpled the metal badly, his fist going nearly all the way through. On the second, he tore the door clean from its hinges.

"What the hell! Who's there?" a male voice yelled, his exact location hidden by how his words echoed but Amenadiel paid it no mind, ducking into the container.

Loud and violent wasn't his usual way of doing things but Amenadiel had to admit, it was fun destroying things that belonged to Lucifer.

A light switch was just inside the door and he flicked it on, several bar lights sputtering to life. Almost directly center on the floor was a medium sized packing crate. He ignored the misdirect however, instead approaching the far wall. Maze had already told him about the secret compartment in the back, though she had neglected to mention the key code. No matter, he was going to get what he had come for either way.

This time, the release was more obvious. Pressing the indentation, he stepped back as two doors swung open silently. A powerful glow poured out, as if the light was desperate to escape. By the time the doors were completely open, Amenadiel was nearly blinded. Raising a hand to shield his eyes, he squinted at the pair of wings harnessed to the wall.

It had been eons since he had seen them, the only solid white wings of any of Heaven's angels. Divinity drummed within them despite having spent five years separated from their host. The undeniable life which throbbed through every individual feather almost took his breath away.

Reverently, he raised a hand and stroked the feathers, surprised to find them warm to the touch. No matter how he felt about his brother, these wings had been crafted by their father.

"Who's in there?" a shaky voice called from just outside the container.

Regretfully, Amenadiel stopped stroking the wings. It was time to leave and enact the second part of his plan. Breaking the straps which held the wings to the wall, he gathered them in his arms, struggling with their bulky shape until he had forced them into some semblance of a folded position. Hugging them to his chest, he spread his own wings, wincing as a sharp pain shot all the way to his back.

The ceiling of the container was high but not enough for what he had planned. No matter, he had gone into this ordeal knowing he would have to stray from his usual tactics.

He flapped his wings once just to stretch the muscles before expanding his chest and, in one furious beat of charcoal feathers, shot upwards furiously. The metal ceiling of the container split like a hot knife through butter as he exploded out of the top and continued to flap, rising like a cork towards the warehouse ceiling.

"Holy fuck!" the watchman screamed from below, flashlight waving frantically.

Amenadiel did not hear the exclamation though, already bursting through a window and out into the open air. His chest muscles burned from how rapidly he had taken off from a stand still, partially healed wings protesting. He refused to slow though, continuing his breakneck speed as he flashed across the Los Angeles sky, a dark omen hidden in smog.

Even with his wings feeling as if they were ripping open, satisfaction was coursing through Amenadiel. He was going to succeed in forcing Lucifer back to Hell. Then, he could return to the Silver City where he belonged. Earth was no place for an angel, fallen or otherwise.

A stout apartment complex was rapidly approaching and Amenadiel began his descent, aiming for a balcony on the sixth floor. For the last three months, the place had served as his base. He doubted even Lucifer knew about the apartment, which was exactly how he wanted it.

Folding his wings he slowed time and braced himself for yet another clumsy landing on the balcony, nearly smacking into the sliding glass door leading into the apartment. Regaining his balance, he hurried inside, allowing time to resume.

The apartment was sparsely decorated with only the few bits of furniture that had come with the space. Entering the bedroom, he laid his prize out gently on top of the bedspread, straightening a few feathers so they fanned out evenly.

Such a precious gift to be wasted…

Returning to the main room, he began to assemble the pullout couch for himself. Amenadiel had never found himself to require much sleep when he inhabited the Silver City but his prolonged stay on Earth coupled with his injuries meant sleep had become a necessity of late. He disliked losing so many hours of his night to allow his body to recharge but he figured it would pay off in the long run. Now was not the time to deplete himself, not with Lucifer becoming as unpredictable as he was.

He recalled the calm certainty of his younger brother's words as he swore to kill him upon their next meeting. The pure truth behind the threat still caused his feathers to ruffle.

In all the millennia the two of them had played this game, Lucifer sneaking off to Earth and Amenadiel braving humanity to return him, never once had there been such tension between the two of them. Lucifer would always throw a tantrum but then he would slink off back to Hell for a century or two if Amenadiel was lucky. The threat of violence came up often enough between the two of them but to kill? No, that was another matter entirely.

His bed now made, Amenadiel sank gracefully to his knees, hands clasped in prayer. Every night he would pray to his Father, a way to re-establish himself to Heaven. His Father never answered but Amenadiel was content enough with the knowledge he was being heard.

For some reason, he hadn't felt comfortable bringing up his plan to force Lucifer back to Hell in his prayers. Omitting the information hardly mattered though, his Father would know either way, but Amenadiel felt like what he was about to do was something his Father would disapprove of.

The thought was ridiculous of course. If God wanted him to stop, he would tell him. It was, after all, on His orders he was acting on in the first place.

Yet still the whispers of doubt had their wicked way with his mind.

Amenadiel had never once wondered if he would ever reach a line he would not cross, where the actions necessary to return Lucifer to Hell would have catastrophic results which outweighed the benefits. Now, it seemed he was skirting close to that line. Stealing another angel's wings? He might as well have stolen Lucifer's divinity or his soul. What he had now was an integral piece of his brother, his very essence in physical form.

"Father, please grant me strength for the days ahead for I fear the storm which may upturn me," he murmured into his clasped hands.

For a while, he waited, hoping that this time he would receive an answer. Instead his prayer dissolved into silence and, for the first time since the Fall all those eons ago, Amenadiel understood just how lonely Lucifer must feel.

Did he deserve the loneliness? Undeniably so. He was the serpent who had nearly catapulted Heaven into war. Yet he did understand the weight of the loss all the same and perhaps understanding was enough…

* * *

Words bounced disjointedly around in his head, chasing each other before fading into a vast oblivion. Lucifer did not try to make sense of them, allowing the words and their accompanying voices to slide over him in a silken caress. He was warm, warmer than he could ever remember feeling. It wasn't the heat of sweat soaked skin after sex or the stifling blanket of a humid, July day but a warmth which emanated from somewhere deep in his gut and spread outwards until even the roots of his hair felt the touch.

He had no words to describe the feeling but he supposed, some might call it love.

"Mommy, is he ever gonna wake up?"

He knew that voice. Drawing his mind out of the heavy ease which laid over him thick as frothing ocean waves, he felt his body come back to him. He became aware of his hands and feet as if previously he had been merely a mind detached from its vessel.

"I'm sure he'll wake up soon, Monkey."

He definitely knew that voice. Now, he began to fight against the tide of froth, pulling his head free and breaching the surface. He blinked open a gummy and itchy eye, light blinding him. Instinctively, he rolled over onto his back and-

For a split second, almost too short to record, he was falling. It was a sensation his body knew well though and as heavy as sleep sat on his shoulders, his body tensed in preparation for a landing of pain and fire.

Instead, he hit a wooden floor.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he rubbed at his eyes and looked around. The legs of the couch to his right were not familiar to him, not that he spent much time crawling around people's floors anyway.

"Lucifer? Are you okay?"

He looked up, meeting Trixie's wide eyes from over the arm of the couch.

Oh right, he was at the Detective's.

Rising to his knees, he rubbed hard at his face, trying to wake himself up. His clothes felt gross, sweaty patches sticking to his heated skin in a most unpleasant way. The urge to strip had him fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

"I'm fine, urchin," he mumbled, pulling his shirt free of his pants. The fabric chafed against his skin and he realized he had slept with his belt on.

"Er, Lucifer? Please don't strip in my living room… or anywhere else in my house." Chloe joined her daughter, watching him with a fair bit of confusion.

His hands fell away from his now unbuttoned shirt and he rose to his feet, bracing against the low coffee table. "Good morning, Detective. It is still morning isn't it?"

The house was flooded with light, every curtain pulled open to achieve maximum potential. He was accustomed to waking in the semi darkness of his own room, not being accosted by the sun first thing in the morning.

"It's just past nine. I was going to wake you but you were completely out of it. Do you want breakfast? We were just about to eat." Chloe walked towards the kitchen.

Lucifer hesitated before following her, head still cottony. "My apologies, I hadn't meant to spend the night."

"It's fine Lucifer, really." She nodded to Trixie who eagerly began to set another place at the table. "I should be the one apologizing for staying out so late. Every time I tried to leave, the Lieutenant would call another meeting."

"There's no reason to apologize." He sank into one of the dining room chairs, wincing as his back twinged. "Actually, I take it back. You should apologize for owning that couch. It's a monstrosity!"

Chloe's face softened sympathetically. "Believe me, I know. The only reason it's still here is because this is my mother's house."

"I don't think she'd mind if you threw it away." He leveled the couch a glare. "If it's a matter of procuring a replacement, I'll purchase one myself."

He could have his personal interior decorator over in an hour with cloth samples. Leather would not fit the space well, but Lucifer could already imagine a pastel sectional. Something small enough to not overcrowd the space but plush with thick pillows. A shade between blue and light grey would do nicely…

"It's very kind of you to offer but I think we'll manage." Chloe picked up a plate stacked with toast and carried it to the table.

Lucifer huffed. "Well I won't. What if I end up sleeping here again?"

Crash.

Lucifer jerked to his feet at the noise. "Detective? Are you alright?"

Chloe was frozen, shards of ceramic and toast littering the floor around her feet. Her startled gaze was not trained on the mess however, but Lucifer.

"When you sleep here again?" she echoed, voice strained and high pitched.

He approached her cautiously, mindful of where he placed his sock clad feet. "Well you never know what the future holds. I'm merely planning ahead."

"Mommy?" Trixie had a towel clutched in her hands.

"Honey, don't come any closer. I don't want you to cut your foot." Chloe's shock was quickly overridden by motherly instinct.

Lucifer reached out, snagging the towel from Trixie, and knelt to begin to sweep the debris into a pile.

"Oh no, Lucifer, don't do that. Trixie, get the broom, please." Chloe traversed the kitchen with ballerina grace, squatting beside him and reaching for his towel. "Really, I'll clean this up. I don't know what came over me…"

"The thought of my naked splendor?" He waggled his eyebrows at her. "Clumsiness, in my experience, is one of the first signs of overwhelming attraction."

Chloe looked over his head for Trixie, who was well out of earshot, rummaging through the back closet. "I wasn't thinking about any part of you!" she hissed. "Maybe I was just horrified by the thought of you hogging my couch."

"The couch you would throw out given half the chance?" he grinned.

Wasn't this an interesting new development? Maintaining chief levels of smugness meant a severe lapse in his focus though. The wayward piece of ceramic which caught his thumb sliced through his skin neatly, blood welling immediately.

"Bollocks!" He withdrew his hand sharply, dropping the towel and inspecting the damage.

How was this possible? Only yesterday he had appeared to have regained his invulnerability. Unless Chloe bought her plates from a demon moonlighting at Bed, Bath, and Beyond, there was no possible way the shard should have been able to cut him.

"Oh God, you're bleeding." Chloe grasped his wrist, dragging his hand close enough to inspect it.

"Tis but a scratch and I assure you, my father couldn't care less." He tried for humor, tugging his hand back halfheartedly.

"Are you seriously quoting Monty Python?" Chloe wasn't smiling as she man handled his hand this way and that.

"Yes. I rather enjoy slapstick as it so happens. Now if you'll please release me, my thumb is scratched, not dislocated." He pulled hopefully but Chloe refused to release him. Instead, she turned his hand over, checking his knuckles. His protest died on his tongue as she ran her fingers gently against his skin. "What are you…" he managed, flustered.

"When you had that fight with your brother, your knuckles were busted up pretty bad. I forgot all about it that night because of everything else." She looked up at him sharply. "They're completely healed."

"You sound disappointed."

Chloe shook her head, still caressing his hand absently. "I'm relieved, obviously, but it's only been a week. There should still be some sign of damage. Discolored skin, a puckering around the injury site." Her eyes narrowed. "You were walking around fine before. Two days ago you were limping so bad, I was going to buy you a knee brace."

"One of the benefits of being the Devil. I'm completely healed. Look," he pulled back his open shirt to better expose his chest. "See? Even the broken rib has sorted itself out."

"No way." Chloe dropped his hand, only to bring her own to his chest, prodding where only a few days ago bruising had completely obscured his skin.

He drew back from her searching touch but she followed his retreat, leaning closer as she traced his ribs. After a moment, he relaxed, muscles which had instinctively tensed unclenching as warm hands continued to press against his skin. The feeling, foreign in its gentleness, was pleasant all the same and he made no move to dissuade her from continuing.

Lucifer could not attest to how Chloe's hands had felt the night he had brawled with Amenadiel. The event was still cloudy for him, a thick haze of pain having eaten most of his memories from that night. Now, without negative distraction, he soaked up the feel of her calloused fingertips, the barest grazes of her nails.

When her hands fell away, he nearly followed, craving more.

"Detective," he murmured, not sure what he wanted to ask. A question was swirling around lazily in his gut but he simply could not vocalize it. There were no words to describe the feeling, a desperate need for something too abstract for him to give voice to. It was the same feeling he had gotten when she had stroked his hair in the bathroom over a week ago, the same thirst.

Parched, he felt as if he had never drunk in his life but now he had gotten his first taste of wine. He wanted more in the most gluttonous of ways, to drink until his stomach swelled and burst.

"I've got it!" Trixie called out, dragging the broom behind her as she returned.

Chloe rose, intercepting her daughter before she could step on the messy floor, but Lucifer remained kneeling, boneless. Tilting his head with newfound wonder, he watched as Chloe took the dustpan and began to sweep. She was saying something but he wasn't listening, too caught up in studying every line on her face, every loose hair mussed from sleep.

Then she was looking directly at him, eyes bright with that easy joy that came to her so naturally.

"Are you going to stay on the floor?"

"Huh? Oh." Shaking himself, he rose, taking an exaggerated step to safer ground.

Chloe continued to clean. "So do you usually heal that fast? I mean, broken bones don't typically fix themselves in a week."

Right, his injuries. Hadn't he answered that question already?

"I suppose so. It's not something I've ever really tested before though now that you mention it, perhaps I should make it a priority. Maze would be delighted with the suggestion. Throwing sharp objects at me might be enough to shake her from whatever mood she's caught in."

The sound of the broom rasping across the floor stuttered as Chloe looked up. "You mean metaphorically?"

"No, I'm being quite literal. You should see her weapon collection, some of the pieces are one of a kind."

Chloe leaned the broom against the counter. "If you don't mind me asking, why is she angry with you? I noticed it the morning after I stayed over."

He shrugged, retaking his seat at the table. "If I didn't know better, I'd say she's feeling guilty about something."

"And guilt translates to wanting to throw knives at you?" She opened the fridge and pulled out a new loaf of bread and eggs. "Trixie, do you want to toast while I make scrambled eggs?"

"Demons aren't equipped to handle most emotions beyond anger and lust, though I've met a few truly apathetic ones in my time. They're a little odd though, too small to fight and constantly brutalized by the others. It's funny the first thousand times but eventually you can't help but feel bad for the poor sods."

"Like Dobby." Trixie supplied.

Lucifer blinked. "What the hell is a Dobby?"

"No cursing in the house," Chloe said, cracking several eggs into a pan. "And Dobby is a little elf creature from Harry Potter."

"Haven't you seen Harry Potter?" Trixie abandoned the toaster, staring at Lucifer as if it were her first time ever seeing him.

"No spawn, I have not. Elves you say? What utter rubbish. Dad would never create a humanoid with pointy ears. It's ridiculous."

Chloe giggled, breaking up the impending argument between Devil and child. Both looked to her curiously.

"What?" Lucifer demanded but Chloe just shook her head, shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter.

He wasn't sure what all that was about, nothing he'd said was even remotely funny, but the ire he usually felt at being laughed at was lacking. It was difficult for him at the best of times to be cross with Chloe and now, as he reclined in her dining room and watched her make breakfast, it was all but impossible for him to muster any irritation.

Trixie brought her stack of unbuttered toast to the table, climbing into the chair beside him. "We're going to watch Harry Potter," she announced.

"Oh really?" he asked, bemused that such a small child could take such an authoritative tone with the Devil.

She nodded. "Uh huh, next time you babysit. We can watch all eight."

That made him blanch.

"Eight movies? Bloody hell! It would take an entire day to watch them all."

"There's about to be a ninth," Chloe informed him, setting the scrambled eggs down on the table. "It's supposed to be some kind of spin-off series with another five movies."

Thirteen movies in one series? That was double the Body Bag series even if you did include the Weaponizer films.

"We could start now," Trixie offered, buttering a piece of toast and scattering crumbs everywhere, to Lucifer's horror.

"Oh no, today we're going to the beach, remember?" Chloe deftly handed her daughter a napkin to clean her mess.

Trixie pouted for a moment before brightening. "Can Lucifer come with us?"

He did not immediately respond, too busy keeping clear of the crumbs threatening his already badly wrinkled shirt, and therefore did not hear when Chloe agreed. When he looked up again, he found both women staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

"Honestly, I've seen goldfish listen better than you." Chloe rolled her eyes. "The beach, would you like to come with us?"

"Oh, no. Thank you for offering but I would hate to intrude upon whatever it is you've planned for the day."

Chloe rolled her eyes again. Twice in ten seconds? That was a new record.

"Lucifer, you slept on my couch and are now eating breakfast with us. You literally cannot get any more intrusive than that."

He was intruding? He hadn't meant to. He shouldn't have taken Chloe's offer for breakfast. She was just being polite obviously, too nice to simply kick him out.

He saw it again, her pupils drowning in a pool of blue as they shrank with fear as he yelled.

Thankful he had not taken any food, he rose in a faux casual manner. "I should really be going actually. The construction crews are at Lux by now and I wanted to have a word with the foreman about installing new lights behind the bar."

The peace from before was shattered, along with it any sense of belonging Lucifer had felt. This wasn't his home. Whenever he spent the night in someone else's bed, he never took up their offer for food the next morning… or evening. That was one of his cardinal rules, sex was all fun and good but it was prudent to clear out once the rag had been wrung so to speak. His morning had been far from the norm, the only explanation for why he was so off footed.

Chloe rose herself, placing herself between him and the door. "Hey wait a second…"

"My apologies Detective, but I really must be going." He stepped around her, realizing he still wasn't wearing shoes.

Looking around for them, he spotted their shiny leather surface under the coat rack. Hurrying over, he stooped to collect them. As he rose, he found himself face to face with the picture he had drawn of himself the previous day tacked crookedly to the wall.

"Why is this here?" he asked, the urge to run evaporating in the face of such a bizarre twist.

Chloe came to his side cautiously, as if she expected him to turn tail if she got too close. "Trixie said you gave it to her. She wanted to hang it up."

His brow furrowed. "Yes but… why is it here? Where you have to look at it regularly?"

She reached for his arm but aborted at the last moment, giving him an appraising look. "Honestly? I thought the picture was cute. In my experience, not many full grown men are interested in coloring."

"Cute? It's," - lonely - "ugly. A mere scribble!"

This time, Chloe did grab his arm, though she kept her grip loose. "I don't care what it is, you made it and I like it. Besides, Trixie was so excited to show it to me this morning."

He still didn't get it. What pleasure could a terrible picture give?

"Lucifer, you're my partner. Maybe it would make more sense for me to have a few photos of you on my phone or something but I like this more because it's personal."

He fidgeted, not sure what about the drawing was bothering him so much. "But… why?" His plaintive tone made him wince. Why was he always doing this around her? She made him feel so… stripped, as if she were tearing through every layer of his armor and directly addressing what lay hidden below.

"Why? Lucifer, we're friends remember? I wouldn't let just anyone watch Trixie or spend the night here," she released his arm. "I wanted the picture, just like I want you to come with us to the beach today."

"Well if you're going to keep nagging me about going..." His usual bravado was seriously lacking but Chloe slipped easily back into her typical role, acting as if the past five minutes had not occurred.

"I don't nag," she informed him briskly. "Now if you're coming with us, I assume you have the correct clothes?"

"Well that depends entirely on the sort of beach we're going to. I know Los Angeles county doesn't have any nude beaches but if you drive just a bit further-"

"No, absolutely not! Why would I take my eight year old daughter to a nude beach?"

He shrugged. "Nudist colonies have children so it must not be a question of modesty."

Three eyerolls and it wasn't even noon yet, he was knocking his previous record out of the park!

"Lucifer, it's literally all about modesty. Now do you have swim trunks or don't you?"

"I do as a matter of fact. My tailor insisted I have at least one pair despite my arguments to the contrary."

Chloe began to clear the table. "Well how about we meet you at Lux then? That way you can drop your car off."

He agreed, leaving after helping Chloe do the minimal dishes. Parking the Corvette in the garage, he took the elevator to the club and spent several minutes consulting with the crew foreman. The renovations were on track, no doubt helped by the extra money he was using as an incentive, and it looked like Lux would be reopening in only a few more days.

Lucifer was eager to share the news with Maze but she was once again conspicuously absent. He checked every floor, even those reserved mainly for storage, but could find no trace of her. Despite his flippant responses to Chloe when she has asked about his demon, Lucifer was beginning to wonder where she had gotten off to. It was rare for her to stray from his side for so long, especially when he was injured.

All signs pointed to her feeling guilty, which bothered Lucifer even more than her absence. He supposed the feeling could derive from allowing Amenadiel to destroy Lux, not that he saw it that way. Maze was lucky she had escaped that ordeal with her life and Lucifer knew he would rather see his precious club burn than lose Maze.

When she returned, he would sort this out, maybe invite over a few toys for her to play with. Lux was almost returned to normal so he could not imagine why she was still staying away. A night of debauchery though, perhaps that would be enough for him to convince her she was 'forgiven'.

He pushed his worry to the back of his mind as he entered his closet and looked around for beach clothes. They were in there somewhere but he couldn't recall exactly where he'd put them. Pawing through drawers, he was distracted as he found cufflinks he had not seen in several months and a green pocket chief he thought he'd lost.

The swim trunks were shoved in the very bottom of a drawer which held a selection of tee-shirts, all still with their tags. Pulling the black shorts out, he studied them critically before stripping down and putting them on. He eyed himself in the mirror, turning this way and that.

The shorts had a red stripe which ran down the outside of either leg but were otherwise unremarkable. They hung down to nearly his knees, which was a little too modest for his taste but still, they accentuated his arse rather nicely so who was he to complain?

Finding appropriate shoes was much easier. Every pair he owned outside of his dress shoes were lined neatly on a shelf. The black flip flops were also new and he was dismayed to find how noisy they were on his tiled floor. They, well, made terrible flopping noises. Not at all sexy.

He forewent a shirt, deciding there would be no point in wearing one just to take it off again at the beach. Besides, he figured Chloe could use a little eye candy on her day off. Dad only knew she wasn't getting any at home.

He was nearly to the elevator before he realized he ought to bring something to entertain himself. Changing directions, he approached his bookshelf, looking for something suitable for an afternoon. None of his originals would survive the harsh exposure to the sunlight so he perused the only shelf to hold anything from within the last century. He settled on a Steinbeck softcover, tucking the book under his arm.

Flopping back to the elevator, he rode it down again, and waited just inside the main entrance for Chloe to drive up. Fortunately, he hadn't long to wait before her familiar silver Ford pulled into one of the rare open spots just outside the club.

He stepped out to the car, grinning to himself as a few passersby stopped short. One woman simply hung up on whoever she had been on the phone with, face slack. He made a show of getting into the car, movements fluid as water droplets on wax paper as he settled into the passenger seat and closed the door, waving to a few of his admirers.

"Lucifer," Chloe too was staring at him, though he could not tell whether or not she was dizzy with desire for him as she was wearing sunglasses. "Why are you not wearing a shirt?"

"It seemed unnecessary," he replied. "Is it distracting?"

Chloe looked away, pulling the car back onto the road. "No, I was just thinking about the first degree burns you're going to get. You're ridiculously pale."

Pale? He was aghast! Here he was, the perfect male specimen and her only comment was on his lack of a suitable tan? Shouldn't she be more interested in the contours of his muscles or his expert manscaping skills?

"Detective, are those sunglasses blinding you?" It was the only possible explanation for why she was so calm.

Chloe frowned. "No. Why? And put your seatbelt on."

He huffed, folding his arms across his chest as he sank back into his seat. "Nevermind."

Trixie kicked the back of his seat. "Don't worry Lucifer, I packed extra sunscreen for you!"

"Splendid child."

"And I brought you your own bucket and shovel," she continued, kicking his seat again for emphasis.

"A shovel? Are we burying something?" He twisted in his seat, expecting to see a metal shovel in the backseat but only finding a brightly colored beach bag.

Trixie giggled. "It's so we can build sandcastles!"

Building castles? That sounded interesting. He'd always been a bit put out by how unimpressive his Hellish dwelling had been. Castles were what rulers lived in, not a namby pamby tower.

Looking to his left, he went to ask Chloe more about these 'sandcastles'. The words caught in his throat though, practically choking him as he tried to both swallow and breathe simultaneously. How had he failed to notice what she was wearing?

Chloe had never struck him as the sort of person to wear a two piece. She and modesty were thick as thieves. The light beach cover she wore though left very little to the imagination.

And he had a very active imagination.

Beneath the thin white fabric, he could make out the outline of her top, clearly not a bikini but closer to a sports bra in terms of coverage. It looked blue but he couldn't really tell, perhaps cyan?

Either way, there were bare shoulders somewhere under there and he very much wanted to see them… along with everything else the bathing suit would reveal.

He hadn't much entertained the notion of sleeping with Chloe since she'd shot him. There had been too much occupying his mind. Now, he remembered exactly what had interested him in the first place.

"Mommy, can I have the water bottle?"

The child's voice forced his runaway thoughts to come to a crashing halt.

"Here." Chloe passed the bottle back and then held out another to Lucifer. "Do you want one?"

"Yes," he said, his throat dry. He drained half the bottle in one long swallow and set it back in the center console. "How far is this place?"

"About an hour. It's a little out of the way, I know, but it's where my parents always took me when I was a kid."

And what an hour it was. Lucifer ended up in charge of the radio but he quickly found his audience had absolutely repulsive taste. Between Chloe's insistence on 90s hits and Trixie's demands for boy bands, Lucifer was surprised he didn't simply open the door of the car and jump out. The fall would surely shatter something important but honestly, limping home forty miles with a broken leg sounded far better than listening to one more song by this One Direction band.

Fortunately, they arrived at the beach before he had to make a serious decision.

"I get to choose what we listen to on the way back," he declared, shutting off the radio in relief as Chloe drove through a mostly empty parking lot.

Trixie groaned. "I don't want to hear old people's music."

"What did you call me?" he snapped around so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Neither myself nor my preference of music are old!"

"I bet you listen to Van Halen like Dad."

"And what's wrong with Van Halen? Their later stuff might not be the greatest but not even you, with your abhorrent taste, cannot deny the strength of those first few albums."

"Children," Chloe piped up. "I will turn this car around if you two don't stop. Trixie, I let you take the day off school so we could do this trip. And Lucifer, you're being an even bigger pain than usual."

Both Lucifer and Trixie glared but Chloe remained impassive, parking the car right next to the beach entrance. The trio climbed out onto the sizzling asphalt, the heat penetrating their flip flops despite the fact it was nearly October.

Chloe opened the trunk, pulling out two beach chairs and thrusting them at Lucifer before collecting a cooler and umbrella. Trixie was quivering impatiently, the beach bag slung over her shoulder like a ridiculously large purse.

Lucifer grabbed the chairs in a reverse grip over his shoulder so they hung behind his back, book in his other hand. He surveyed the beach, squinting against the light shooting off the ocean and making the sand glimmer as if diamonds were hidden amongst the grains.

"Okay everyone ready?" Chloe asked, leading the way towards the set of stairs leading down.

As they descended, Lucifer realized this was not the sort of beach he was accustomed to. The sand was not soft and raked over like it would be if vehicles drove over it regularly. There were no lifeguard towers either, or even a set of bathrooms. He felt as if he were stepping into the wilderness, sand unmarred by footprints.

There were other people as well, but most of them were merely specks on the horizon, so far off they might well have not been there at all.

Chloe continued on until they were about halfway between the edge of the surf and the parking lot. Setting the cooler down, she took the bag from Trixie and pulled out several beach towels.

Lucifer set down the chairs, leaning them against his shins as he watched Chloe spread the blanket with a practiced flick of her wrists and then started on the umbrella, driving the peg into the sand at a harsh angle.

"Can you set up the chairs in the shade?" she asked.

Lucifer did so, wincing at the squeal of the rusted metal frame unfurling. The chairs sat low, fabric drooping nearly to the ground.

"Detective, I think I might be too tall for these," he eyed them doubtfully.

"Then you can have the blanket!" Trixie made a move for the chair but Lucifer took one look at the pink towel and knew which he'd prefer.

He collapsed into the chair, grunting as the force of his descent nearly toppled him over. He thought it would be enough to deter Trixie but she instead rocketed into his lap, all spindly limbs and frizzy hair.

"Watch it!" he cried as the chair tipped precariously to the side. "Child, off!"

"Once again Lucifer, she's a human, not a dog." Chloe did not appear perturbed by the sudden assault on her partner. "Trixie, you can't play until you put on sunscreen okay?"

"Yes, do as your mother asks," Lucifer said hopefully, trying to pry himself free.

Trixie had slung one arm around his neck, holding on with a deceptively sturdy grip as she sat sideways in his lap, other hand held out towards her mother expectantly. "Lucifer needs some too."

Lucifer's eyes narrowed. "Detective, think very carefully about what you're about to do."

Chloe bit her lip thoughtfully. "Believe me, I am." And without warning, she tossed the sunscreen bottle to Trixie.

The girl snatched it out of the air, flipping open the lid and pouring a generous helping of the greasy mess into her palm. Lucifer froze beneath her, watching the liquid threaten to spill out of her hand and onto his lap. Maybe if he didn't move, she wouldn't notice him, like a dinosaur…

Trixie looked thoughtfully at her hand and then him. Her smile was positively demonic as she slapped her hand against his chest, smearing the cold sunscreen all over him.

He rose with a startled yell, upending the chair and smacking his head on the umbrella. Trixie hung onto his waist with her legs easily, laughing as he tried to swipe the sunscreen away.

"Detective, how dare you?" He struggled out from beneath the umbrella, hampered by Trixie's monkey impression. The sunscreen felt truly foul on his skin, cold and greasy like yogurt.

"Now you won't burn!" Trixie still had the bottle, pouring out more of the contents.

Lucifer tore the bottle away from her, flinging it a good forty feet down the beach where it landed with a little puff.

"You know, she's right. Sunburn can cause cancer." Chloe reached out for Trixie, who climbed into her arms. "And you'd probably burn in about ten minutes max."

He was too disgusted with the mess on his chest to remind her the Devil couldn't get human diseases like cancer. "So I'm to walk around with this white stuff caked on me like an orgie gone horrendously wrong?"

"Trixie, go get the sunscreen and put some on okay?" Chloe set her down, watching her daughter take off for a moment before turning back to Lucifer. "Seriously? You rub it in you idiot. Come here."

Lucifer approached her cautiously. Rub it in? Now who was making sexual remarks?

Chloe had pulled off her beach cover, folding it neatly and laying it down before approaching him. "The more you spread it, the more invisible it becomes. How do you not know this? Watch." She reached out, scooping some of the sunscreen off his chest and beginning to apply it to her arms. "Wow, I didn't know she was going to put so much on you, otherwise I would have stopped her."

He hummed in agreement, though he was paying precious little attention to what she was saying. His earlier guess had not been quite exact, her swimsuit was turquoise. The color was the least interesting thing about her though. For whatever reason, Chloe was a layers person. She was constantly wearing jackets over long sleeved shirts, leaving absolutely nothing to ogle at.

Not that he ogled, he wasn't a teenager. He just knew how to appreciate nice things.

And Chloe certainly was nice, exquisite even. Her skin was tanner than his own, unblemished by freckles. He had never realized how petite her frame was, the narrow width of her shoulders, the curve of her torso meeting equally slim hips. She was half turned away from him as she awkwardly tried to coat her back. He followed her hands, mesmerized by the paths they drew, wanting to replace them with his own.

Then, he noticed a marring on her shoulder, a small discolored patch of skin the size of a nickel.

"Your bullet wound did scar."

"What? Oh, yeah it did."

He came closer, transfixed by the small mark. "Mine didn't," he said.

She was still struggling with her back, arm twisted at a painful looking angle. "No, I didn't expect it would have. What you got was just a graze."

"Detective, do you need help?" He was so close now he could smell the slightly artificial scent of her shampoo, smothered as it was beneath the sunblock.

She looked over her shoulder, sizing him up. "You're not trying to cop a feel are you?"

"Of course not! Do you truly have so little faith in me?" he teased.

"No, I just happen to know you well enough to know that seventy percent of you is geared like a sex addict."

"And the other thirty?"

"Borderline alcoholic."

"I'm wounded!" He pressed a hand to his heart. "You summarize my entire personality as being about sex and booze?"

"You're right, I'm sorry. I completely forgot the smoking and temper tantrums."

He huffed. "I do not throw temper tantrums."

She just gave him a look.

Trixie's return, sunscreen in hand, broke the two adults out of their stalemate. Everyone finished applying sunscreen, Lucifer thankfully without any more help from Trixie, and then the trio broke apart.

Chloe took Trixie to the water so they could play while Lucifer, who'd never much enjoyed swimming in unheated water, reclined in his chair and pulled out his book. His focus was not the best though and he found his eyes drifting up every few sentences to watch the two splashing each other at the water's edge.

After reading the same page twice, he gave up on his book, setting it down and instead watching Chloe and Trixie play. He could hear their shrieks of delight easily from where he was. The shade cast by the umbrella was nice and he buried his feet in the sand, surprised to find a damper layer beneath the softer top. A constant breeze ruffled his hair, which he could only imagine looked like a bush by now, but he found he didn't much care at the moment.

When Chloe and Trixie returned, damp from the water, they unpacked sandwiches and potato chips for lunch. Lucifer was appalled he was expected to eat with the same hands he had used to apply the sunblock but the other two were not deterred, digging in enthusiastically.

After lunch, Trixie convinced Lucifer to build a castle with her and the two of them set off with buckets and shovels.

"You need the wet sand to build with." Trixie scooped up a bucket full and eyed it critically before turning her bucket upside down and giving it a firm smack. When she pulled it back, a perfect print of the bucket was left behind.

Lucifer kneeled next to her, using his shovel rather than his hands to fill his own bucket. Together, they built a basic four towered castle. As Trixie worked on finding accoutrements such as seashells, Lucifer began to add details. He poked small holes with a bit of driftwood to achieve windows and then moved on to adding doorways and buttresses. There was a faint picture of a castle in his head, some place he must have visited once a few centuries ago. Scotland maybe? He emulated the details he could recall, dexterous fingers creating stairs and archways.

When Trixie returned with her treasure, they added broken seashells as shields and seaweed for banners before starting on a moat. They had nearly completed it when Chloe approached them.

"It's getting late, we have to leave soon."

"But Detective, the castle isn't done!" Lucifer protested. "We need to add rocks for a better foundation and perhaps some flags for the tower tops."

Chloe looked down at him with a funny expression, almost fondness. "Alright, how about I help for half an hour and then we go?"

Revitalized by the additional time, Lucifer began to explain the specifics of their castle to an amused Chloe. Though they never found anything suitable for flags, they broke a piece of driftwood just right to act as the bridge over the moat.

The sun was starting to sink when the three of them sat back, watching the water creep up on their castle.

"Lucifer, thank you for coming with us." Chloe was sitting knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around her legs.

"I must admit, it is rather different from how I usually spend my time," he traced figures in the sand, drawing a little pentagram.

"A good different?"

He nodded. "A very good different."

They watched where Trixie was cleaning herself of sand in the ocean before Chloe spoke up again. "You know, you're not too shabby at this. The family thing I mean."

He stilled. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. In Heaven, he was the destroyer of families. On Earth his constant revolving doors when it came to partners meant he hadn't had so much as had a real date, nevermind a girlfriend… or a boyfriend now that he thought about it. He wasn't exactly picky.

"How is your case progressing?" he asked uncomfortably.

Chloe sighed, leaning back on her hands to look up at the sky. "Honestly? We've got nothing. We don't know where the victim was shot, why he never made it in his house, why he had the drugs, nothing. I think the lieutenant is going to give it to someone else, try to recuperate our losses. Mr. Stone has friends in high places."

"You think he'll use his position to make a mockery of the homicide department?"

"It's happened before and I get it. When the people you trust most to get you justice fail, yeah, I understand why he's upset."

"But you did your best!" He twisted to face her. "You always do your best, no matter who the victim is or what their social standing."

"Sometimes the best you can give isn't enough. Our department's solve rate isn't the greatest and even when we do arrest people, sometimes they walk free anyway."

"So that's it? The case is taken away and nothing more is said on the matter?"

"Believe me, I'm used to it. Before you became my partner, my solve rate was just above average, which is a big deal believe it or not. But I don't want to talk about that right now. Tomorrow we'll deal. Today though, I just want to enjoy this."

He fell silent beside her, a silence they maintained the entire car ride home. The radio remained off, in deference to Trixie who had fallen asleep the moment she'd climbed into the car, but the quiet was nice. It wasn't born from having nothing to say or perhaps too much but an understanding that nothing had to be said.

When Chloe pulled to a stop alongside Lux, Lucifer climbed out stiffly, shaking his limbs to regain some feeling. He had made up his mind, first he would buy her a more comfortable couch, then he would find her a car with proper leg room to accommodate him.

"So, I'll see you at the precinct tomorrow?" she asked.

"Yes. Who knows, maybe I'll come in early."

She smiled. "I sincerely doubt that."

He grinned back but the look quickly faded. "Detective, I don't think I ever thanked you for bringing Dehlila's killer to justice."

"You don't have to-"

"Yes I do, because I'm sure no one else has. It meant a great deal that you allowed me to tag along, though I'm sure you could have solved the case without my help. Eventually."

"You didn't give me much choice in the matter. Every lead I followed, you were three steps ahead."

"We do make quite the team, don't we?"

"The finest in Los Angeles," she agreed.

"Well," he tapped the top of the car, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Lucifer," she called as he began to close the door. "I really… like working with you. If you're ever in trouble, I'm here okay? You don't have to deal with stuff on your own all the time."

He smiled sadly. "I know, but some issues, well, they're nearly biblical in size. Have a good night." He closed the car door, waving once before retreating to Lux.

Once again, the building was silent, a coldness taking hold the second he stepped over the threshold. For a moment, all he wanted was to turn and go back to Chloe's car. He could spend the night again, make her breakfast before work…

"Lucifer?" A voice unmistakably belonging to Maze called and just like that, his whimsical dream vanished.

"Yes?" he drawled, stepping deeper into the cold and miles further from the warmth.

The softness from before melted away, his step unconsciously regaining a bit of swagger. If he'd looked into one of the mirrors he passed, he would have seen his features dissolve into careless boredom, tinged with an upcurved lip of arrogance.

He entered the club to find Maze looking around the nearly completed room.

"So, you're back?" He descended the stairs, moving to the bar. The backlit wall had only just been installed but he kept a few bottles under the sink for emergency purposes. "Have fun?"

His cold tone caught her attention and she turned to him, frowning. "What? You were being boring so I took off for a bit." She came up, reaching over the new bar top for a tumbler, catching sight of what he was wearing. "But it looks like someone had a little fun on their own."

"I was at the beach. With the Detective." He poured himself a glass and passed her the bottle.

"The beach?" she laughed. "Did you go skinny dipping?"

"It wasn't that sort of trip, though I tried to recommend a nude beach." He tossed back his drink and reached for the bottle again. "Her offspring went with us."

Maze's scarred brow was in danger of disappearing into her hairline. "Oooooh. So you were doing the domestic thing," she snorted. "I should've known."

Her condescending manner lit a wrathful fire within him. After worrying for her for the past week, she had the audacity to return and judge him?

"Something funny, Mazikeen?" He went to pour himself more of the whiskey but Maze reached for his glasses, pulling it out of reach.

"Yeah, I think it's hysterical. You, the King of Hell, going on family day trips? It's pathetic. What did you guys do? Braid each others hair and talk about your feelings-"

"ENOUGH!" Lucifer roared, the bottle in his hand shattering and spraying himself with alcohol and glass.

Maze flinched but she glared at him defiantly. "The truth hurts doesn't it?"

"Don't you dare to be so presumptuous as to take that tone with me." He rounded the bar, eyes flashing red.

Maze threw her glass against the far wall. "Don't you see what being here is doing to you? You are pathetic, trailing after Decker like a puppy!"

"I'M HAPPY!" He screamed so loudly that Maze actually drew back, dropping into a defensive stance. "My entire life others have been dictating what I should be, pruning away the bits they find unsatisfactory! And here no one is demanding my servitude or telling me what I am. I get to decide that here! Why does everybody seem to have an issue with that?"

"Don't pretend you don't revel in being the Devil! You love it, the punishing and torture!"

He groaned, smashing his closed fists into his eyes and pressing so hard he felt as if his eyeballs would burst under the pressure. "What do you want of me? You won't leave without me yet you clearly can't handle being here. But why am I the one who must compromise?"

"Because we don't belong here."

"But why do I belong in Hell?" He lowered his hands tiredly.

Maze snorted, looking away, but she didn't answer. How could she? They both knew it had been his father's decision alone to send him there.

"Lucifer, how you feel about Hell, that's how I feel about Earth."

He didn't want to do this, not after having such a pleasant day.

"Maze, I've tried everything to help you adjust. I buy whatever drink you fancy, let you sleep with the staff, occasionally let you out to play with your knives. I swore to kill my own brother because he hurt you." He gripped the railing overlooking where the booths would be installed. "Perhaps it would be better if we parted ways."

"Lucifer no, that's not the answer." She came to his side. "I won't leave you."

"Then again I ask, Mazikeen of the Lilim, what would you have me do?"

"You're upset, I get it. Amenadiel trashed the club and you've been cooped up all week. You need to unwind." Her hand crept low across his stomach, teasing his waistband.

He pulled away from her moodily. "I'm not interested."

"You're really upset," she said, awed.

"What gave it away?" he asked humorlessly.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line, and he half expected the fighting to start again, when she grabbed his hand and tugged. "The new piano came in while you were gone. Play for me?"

He relented, allowing her to lead him down into the central pit. The piano was shoved into the corner, out of the way of the construction crew, the legs still covered in plastic from being shipped over.

Effortlessly, he pushed the instrument away from the wall, settling onto the bench and opening the fallboard to reveal a row of gleaming keys. Maze sat beside him, shoulder brushing his.

"You know, I don't blame you for what happened with Amenadiel. There's nothing in this club that can't be replaced, present company excluded." He pressed a few keys experimentally, feeling the gentle vibrations beneath his fingers.

"I told him to not break the piano."

"Which I'm sure just encouraged the pompous arse." The piano would have to be re-tuned, he'd make an appointment tomorrow, but for the moment it was serviceable.

Maze stiffened beside him. "There's something you should know, about when Amenadiel came."

"I don't care." He rattled off a chromatic scale. "What's done is done. Lamenting about the past won't change a thing."

"Which you'd know. I've never met someone who broods like you do. You've made it into a competitive sport." Despite the teasing edge of her words, she was watching him carefully, ready for his volatile temper.

"Brooding is part of wealth, ask Batman." His fingers skated through the opening bars of a few different songs as he searched for what he wanted to play. "Besides, there's no need to brood over a resolved issue. I tossed Amenadiel off the pier for daring to try and turn you against me. I'm sure the message got through his remarkably thick skull. Now, what would you like to hear?"

"Can you teach me?" she asked.

Lucifer's fingers paused. Demons were not able to create, not in the conventional sense at least. They could learn to play an instrument but could never compose, paint you a copy but never something unique, write a poem but always with heavy influence. Not that many demons in general cared for the arts. Everything in Hell was practical. Twice Lucifer had tried to bring a piano to Hell but the ash had clogged its mechanisms, rendering the instrument useless in only a few hours.

He swung a leg over the bench, resettling so Maze sat between his thighs, her back pressed snugly against his bare chest. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he placed his hands over her own, directing her fingers.

"Sing?" she asked with the small sense of wonder he so rarely heard from her.

"Of course."

And in the semi-darkness of the club, Lucifer sang quietly, working the pedals as his demon played under his guidance.

His anger melted away. For now, at least, peace had been re-established. He was tired of the constant arguing and snide comments. Not even Amenadiel, the self proclaimed strongest of their father's warriors, had been able to split them apart. And staying on Earth wouldn't either.

Something wet hit his hand and he looked down curiously.

"Maze?" he asked, squeezing his thighs teasingly. "Are you crying?"

"Fuck you."

He laughed, losing his place in the song, not that he minded. Lux, for the first time since being attacked, was warm again.


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N - This chapter ended up being 17,000 words long and I'm too tired to say much about it other than it has enough angst, fluff, and Deckerstar to hopefully sate all of you._

_Special thank you, as always, to XxSchlottixX, Jo38916791, mendenbar, Meeklyopinioned, Laetitia-chan, Verge of Chaos, Adriana, Mera, MyCrazyFangirlLife, Patougv, and everyone else who has read up until this point. _

_With this chapter, the word count for Crystals surpasses 100,000 words and I want to thank everyone who has been there since the start. It's been a truly wild ride thus far and this chapter goes out to all of you who were so patient._

_I hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Fourteen - I'm Not Sure Yet**

At only nine in the morning, the Hollywood Walk of Fame was already swarming with walking tour groups and impressionists dressed, with varying degrees of success, as famous actors and musicians. The day was not especially momentous, excluding a brief scuffle which had broken out between two Marilyn Monroes. Bored, Edward Yeltin, who was in the midst of leading his first of seven tours for the day, watched as his group of tourists eagerly took pictures of the stars embedded in the concrete.

He leaned against one of the trees spaced every fifteen feet or so down the walk, desperate for a cigarette. Getting caught smoking on the job would end in another reprimand though and as he had already accumulated two in the past six months, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and tried to ignore the urge.

For two years now he had done this tour, hiked the same sidewalks so often he surely must have left permanent shoe prints. His wandering gaze swept up and down the street, settling, as it often did, on the club across the street.

He wasn't entirely sure what the building had been prior to becoming Lux. It seemed few did though. One day it had merely been another fixture in a city of ever changing names and faces and the next it had become the premiere place to party.

More interesting than the club was the owner.

Edward had heard rumors, most had, of the foreign man who called himself the Devil. Supposedly, he would grant you anything you desired, open exclusive doors and launch a nobody into stardom if they so wished. Of course, the devil thing was more than a mere name. When Lucifer Morningstar fulfilled a desire, it wasn't out of the goodness of his heart. It was a transaction, a blank check written and signed with every hope for the future. Reneging was not an option.

He wasn't sure what drove people to make such deals with what sounded suspiciously like a mob boss and he doubted he ever would. Long ago he had learned that people like him never got those sort of chances.

The tour group had moved further down the walk, camera flashes going off every few seconds. Edward spared one last look at the club before following them. As he did so, something flitted on the edge of his vision, a shadow which drew his focus.

A moment ago, the street behind him for sixty feet had been empty. Now, a well built man was standing not ten feet away, dressed in a silvery robe. The clothes themselves were not especially interesting, there were all sorts of people dressed oddly around this section of the city, but the man's presence was otherworldly. Alien-like.

Edward stopped short, a sense of foreboding creeping over him. Something was going to happen, he knew, like how he always knew when it was going to rain.

Then, two things happened at once. The robed man stepped matter of factly off the safety of the sidewalk and directly into the paths of oncoming cars.

And time slowed.

Edward was only aware of one of these things. He was frozen, mouth open to yell a warning. Cars slowed to a mere crawl as the robed man weaved between them as serenely as a morning walk in the woods. He reached the other side of the road, striding towards the main entrance of Lux and disappearing inside as time resumed.

Edward stumbled forwards, one hand reached out. "Hey, wait!" he yelled.

The robed man was gone though.

He looked around wildly, but only found a few people nearby giving him cautious looks. What had just happened? He swore he'd seen… but the man wasn't even here now. Had he been there at all?

Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair and walked towards his tour group, who were watching him apprehensively.

"Let's go folks, lots more to see," he said robotically, still scanning either side of the road for the disappearing man.

Something snapped under his boot. Looking down, he expected to find a wrapper or some other piece of trash underfoot. Even with the Hollywood Walk of Fame being a major tourist attraction, the city seemed incapable of keeping it litter free.

Raising his foot, he found a white feather.

Despite having just been crushed, the barbs were still straight and fluffed, not a speck of dust marring the snowy coloration. The surface glowed, a halo of light easily discernible despite it being a bright, clear day.

Stooping he picked up the feather, nearly dropping it when the intense heat given off licked at his fingers. This wasn't some cheap fake feather from a boa and it definitely didn't belong to a seagull, it was too early in the season for them to begin to migrate.

His initial surprise had worn off some and he stroked the feather reverently. A strange feeling had overcome him, a sense of almost giddiness. His brain was foggy, the edge of his vision blurred, but all he cared about was the feather. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

No, beauty was too inadequate a word. Ravishing. Magnificent. Stunning. None of it was enough to describe what he held. He wanted to stare at it forever, in the most literal sense possible. His feet, which had ached something fierce in his worn boots, were now weightless. The urge to smoke had dissipated entirely. What even was nicotine and why did he want it?

"Um… Mr. Tour Guide…" A woman was approaching, steps stilted

He looked up at her blankly, almost immediately dropping his gaze back to the feather. He was supposed to… to do something wasn't he? But he'd rather not if he were being honest. All he wanted was to get home and set his new prize somewhere where it'd be safe.

"Mister? Are you alright?" The voice came from far away, a part of the background as innocuous as a ceiling fan.

Edward Yeltin was the happiest he'd ever been in his remarkably miserable life and it was all thanks to the glowing object resting in his palm.

* * *

Amenadiel strode through Lux, taking in the nearly completed construction. He had thought it would be months before the club would be anywhere near operational but evidently he had been mistaken. There were still things that needed doing of course. The rows of bulb ceiling lights, for instance, were mostly burned out and the DJ booth had only just been framed. Most of the heavy work appeared finished though, a new piano waiting to be played in the center of the room. The acrid smell of new paint hung heavy in the air, along with wood polish and Spackle.

"You're late."

He smiled thinly, approaching where Maze sat on a bar stool, knife spinning idly between her nimble fingers. She was dressed in one of those outfits that, despite being adorned in buckles, hardly covered any skin.

"I was busy. Now," he crossed his arms. "Why did you call me?"

Thwack.

The blade shot off her fingers, lodging itself into the wall beside his head. He didn't flinch, only raising a brow in exasperation. Why couldn't demons just have a conversation without all the added pomp and circumstance?

"Our deal, it's over. I want you out of Los Angeles and far away from Lucifer," she said, sliding off the stool.

Well wasn't this remarkable? A demon showing, dare he say, remorse? Or maybe a better offer had come along. That was far more likely.

"This is quite the change of tune. Cold feet? Even if Lucifer is fond of you, little demon, he could destroy you with a snap of his fingers."

"He would never do that!" she hissed. "Our bonds were forged in Hellfire."

"Yet still you sought to betray him." He shook his head, chuckling. "I'll never understand what goes on in your warped head."

"Lucifer will not be returning to Hell unless he alone decides to leave."

He nodded in mock thoughtfulness. "Well, I wish you'd told me earlier. I've already taken his wings. I suspect you'll get a call from the warehouse any time now."

Her eyes narrowed to crocodile-like slits. "Return them."

"No, that would be counterproductive I'm afraid. Father wishes Lucifer to rule Hell and I, an extension of his will, am the hand through which his command is enacted.

Maze bared her teeth, revealing sharper than average canines. "Do you really believe all that shit?"

"I don't expect a creature like yourself to understand such matters." He began to pace, hands clasped behind his back. "Lucifer will be returning to Hell. That is the final word."

"You really think stealing his wings will get him back? I was the one who cut them off, sliced through bone and sinew with a blade the size of my hand. Never once did he cry out or beg for me to stop. No, the only thing he did was laugh." She pulled another blade out of somewhere, holding it loosely by her hip. "Once Lucifer finds out what you did, he'll make you pay."

Amenadiel bit back a laugh at the sight of the bristling demon. "And when he does find out, what does that mean for you? Someone must have told me where the wings were hidden, directed me to the exact shipping container. My brother has innumerable faults but he's not stupid."

Maze wavered, the first show of uncertainty he'd seen in her since they'd made their deal. He pressed his advantage.

"So, let me explain exactly how things are going to progress. I've left several feathers with a few derelict humans. Word of divinity will spread quickly and you can either wait for the news to find Lucifer or tell him yourself. I don't particularly care either way. Afterwards, he'll want to reclaim his wings or risk mass hysteria befalling his beloved city. And once he has them back in his possession, I don't think he'll be able to part from them a second time."

"Why tell me what your plan is?" she asked jerkily.

"Soon, Lucifer won't be listening much to anyone. You, his sole consort, will have betrayed him. I, the only angel currently on Earth, will be waiting to drag him back to Hell."

"And then what? You're going to staple his wings back on and hope he flies?" Maze threw her other blade, this one nearly nicking his upper arm. "Your plan won't work!"

"I trust Father to handle the rest. And if not, then so be it, Lucifer will return to Hell wingless. It would be rather helpful if he couldn't escape, actually."

Yes, maybe Lucifer cutting off his own wings _did_ have its advantages. Amenadiel did not know exactly how many coins his brother had in his possession but he was sure there were only a few. This was so typical though. Lucifer, in his attempts to escape his so-called bondage, inevitably only ended up spiting himself.

Maze had drawn yet another knife and Amenadiel was really beginning to wonder where she stashed them all. "If he goes to Hell wingless, the demons will eat him alive!"

"You mean the soulless demons have no sense of loyalty? I would never have guessed. Lucifer can care for himself, I'm sure he'll be fine." He waved off her concern, even as his stomach dropped.

If a demon managed to temporarily kill his brother, and that was an astronomical if, then Lucifer would just stay in Hell. He was barred from Heaven, a punishment with no expiration date.

That being said, that didn't mean Amenadiel felt right about dropping his younger brother into Hell and then having him become a target for the next few millennia. When he visited Hell, the demons did all they could to aggravate him but they stopped short of causing permanent damage. He'd almost taken a few arrows in the wings from the more zealous types but his position as a powerful angel meant most demons would at most hurl a few insults and stay far away.

An angel without wings though, lacking the additional strength of divinity, there was no telling what would happen. Most of their siblings would probably take issue with it as well, Amenadiel knew. Lucifer may be a name only mentioned with heavy disdain but few angels wanted him dead. Or if they did, they kept quiet about it. Lucifer had once been their Father's favorite son and no amount of time could ever wash away that title.

"Lucifer will not be going back to Hell. He doesn't want to," Maze said firmly, as if her resolve would be enough to ward off God himself.

Under different circumstances, Amenadiel might have been impressed by her sheer defiance.

"And what about you? By breaking our deal, you're ensuring you'll stay on Earth." He was genuinely curious as to why she would ruin what was quite likely her last and only chance to go back to her home of brimstone - not that he'd intended to fulfill his part of the bargain in the first place but _she_ didn't know that.

"I was brought here to protect Lucifer from any threat, no matter the cost. If he's unhappy, then I'm unhappy. It's that simple."

He wondered what had transpired in Hell to make these two so protective of one another. Not that it mattered much. Soon, Amenadiel doubted Lucifer would be able to so much as look at Maze without going into a blind rage.

"Well, I'll be taking my leave before my dear brother returns. I have some preparations to make before returning to Heaven." He turned away, moving towards where the exit sign glowed faintly.

Maze growled, a guttural sound only demon vocal cords could produce. "This isn't over!"

He ignored her, slowing time as he opened the door and stepped outside. The sun was brutal after spending so much time in the club's semi-darkness. Squinting, he spread his wings and took flight, only resuming time once he was safely out of sight.

The wind whipped him as he ascended, skyscrapers shrinking to the size of pencil erasers as he headed back to his temporary home. Usually, he would take a few minutes to enjoy the weather, find somewhere to spread his feathers and rest, but he had more important things to attend to.

Landing on his balcony, he entered his apartment and headed for the bedroom. Lucifer's wings were just as he'd left them, sprawled neatly across the bed. He sat down beside them, running a hand through the feathers. Though he'd pulled off several dozen earlier, there were no obvious bare patches left behind.

The leaking divinity though? Yeah, that was a bit of a problem.

Amenadiel frowned to himself, using a finger to try and plug one of the holes from which a golden light was oozing out. When he'd first pulled the feathers, he had expected at least a little divinity to bleed out. Now, several hours later, the holes had not patched themselves like he'd hoped.

He wished he knew why but as these were quite literally the only pair of severed angel wings which had ever existed, he was a bit out of his depth. Burying his hands in the feathers, he stroked the skin beneath, feeling the structure of delicate bones.

Was it just him or did the wings feel cooler?

When he'd first taken them from the warehouse, he'd marveled at the heat coursing through the severed appendages. Angels were similar, the raw power of divinity heating them to temperatures most humans would find nearly unbearable.

Was the lower temperature now from the loss of divinity?

The assumption wasn't totally baseless - angels who were injured also cooled until they could replenish their divinity. But angels would eventually heal themselves. The wings still hadn't recovered from having a few feathers pulled.

Restlessly, Amenadiel stood, stalking into the main room. Whatever was happening, he didn't like it. If the wings were to drain completely, would they die?

He glanced upwards uncertainly. "Father, what have I done?"

* * *

As Chloe handed the Stone case file over to senior detective Ramon Santiago, she could not help but feel the cold clutch of failure strangle her gut. Despite the Lieutenant's declaration that moving the case had nothing to do with Chloe's skills as a detective, she still felt like she should have done better.

"Now Decker, I think the best thing to do is put this behind us and push ahead." Monroe, always efficient, held out another file the moment Santiago left the office. "This case just came in through dispatch and I want you to take the lead. Bring Espinoza along too."

She took the file, flicking it open and scanning the few details inside. "You want me to continue working with Dan? What about Lucifer?"

Monroe shrugged. "Our consultant hasn't been into work for over a week and I don't like my detectives being out in the field without a partner."

"He's supposed to come back in today." She closed the file, tucking it against her side.

"Information I would have loved to be privy to," Monroe said dryly. "I understand Mr. Morningstar is eccentric and I do my best to accommodate him as he is an asset to the department but in the future, I expect to be kept in the loop if he decides to take an extended leave of absence."

Chloe didn't argue, just nodding along and escaping the office. Honestly, she hadn't given much thought to telling any of the higher ups when Lucifer had stopped coming to work. His presence in the precinct was erratic at best and downright unpredictable at worse. She supposed, even he had limits though. Taking off for a week without a word, yeah, that probably hadn't looked good.

"Hey Dan, we have a new case," she said as she walked him by on her way to her desk.

Dan hopped out of his chair, following after her. "We?"

"Monroe wants us to work together again. I don't think she's happy Lucifer wasn't around much for the last case. As far as she's aware, he totally flaked." Setting the file on her desk, she searched around for her keys.

"Speaking of which, how did Lucifer babysitting Trixie work out?" Dan leaned against the corner of the desk.

"Good. Actually, it went great." She pulled open a desk drawer. "I don't know what went on between the two of them but he seems much more relaxed around her. He even went to the beach with us yesterday."

Dan snickered. "The guy who can't handle getting dirt on his shoes went to the beach? I would have liked to see that."

"He was remarkably okay with it." She stopped searching, sitting in her desk chair. "The night he babysat, Monroe kept us all late so I asked Lucifer to take Trixie home. When I got there, he was passed out on the couch with Trixie and… Jesus Dan, they looked so happy."

"So he just spends a few hours with Trixie and he doesn't mind being touched anymore?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Not at all. But I think the reason he doesn't want Trixie touching him and why he flinches away from us is completely different." She hesitated, gathering her thoughts. "I don't think Lucifer perceives Trixie as a threat. He doesn't understand why she wants to touch him and his reaction is more confusion than fear."

"I guess it would make sense for him to see adults as the threat, especially if even half of what we've guessed about his parents is true."

"I may have also tested my theory." She looked down guiltily. "When we went to the beach, I didn't exactly interfere with the two of them. I figured Trixie seems to know him enough to not cross any boundaries. And yeah, he complained when she climbed all over him but I watched them pretty closely and he didn't get upset or anything."

"But you didn't know how he would react," Dan said, tense.

"I just… I wanted to see him free. Every time I grab his arm and he freaks, I'm reminding him of some terrible memory. You know what I mean, he did the same thing when you bandaged his hand. But with Trixie, he's not thinking about his family and," she closed her eyes, "I just don't want him to hurt."

Dan was silent for a long time, fiddling with a pen. She watched him roll it between his fingers.

"Chlo, I get it. When he scared you and Trix, he was terrified of the idea that he'd upset her. He said he didn't want to be the monster in her dreams." He set down the pen. "He really didn't mind at the beach?"

"He built a sandcastle with her and made us stay an extra hour just so they could finish it."

She wished she'd brought a camera yesterday to have caught the moment. Lucifer had been just as excited as Trixie, the two of them working together to build their little castle. His patience had been startling, so unlike what she was used to, as he explained different architectural points.

"We haven't gone to the beach in ages," Dan said absently.

"Which reminds me. If we're going to do our annual camping trip, we have to do it soon or it'll get too cold."

She expected Dan to agree but instead he frowned, brow pinching.

"Is that a good idea?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be? Trixie loves when we go camping and we want to keep everything as normal as possible."

"Chlo, we both know nothing about this is normal."

She didn't like how defeated he sounded, the way his shoulders hunched beneath his jacket.

"What are you saying?"

"I don't think we should talk about this now." He shifted uncomfortably. "But maybe trying to keep things normal just isn't working."

Chloe's brain stalled. She knew he had spoken English but the words weren't making sense to her.

"Are you saying we should divorce?" Her voice was painfully high, even to her own ears.

"No. Maybe?" Dan stood, scratching at the back of his neck. "It's been almost a year and things… I think things are working better than they used to."

"Because we're separated," she said flatly, unconsciously crossing her arms.

"Yeah. I think we've known for a long time that we aren't getting back together. If Trixie wasn't here, who knows. Maybe we would have signed the papers months ago."

Hurt, raw and unfiltered, was creeping in Chloe's gut like a molten monster struggling to escape. Yet beneath that lay a nugget of relief. It was small, easily overcome by the devastating realizations that her marriage was over. For the first time in nine months though, the holding pattern had been broken and there was solace in that as well. Their lives had been frozen for so long, her living at her mother's, Dan's lease renewing on a monthly basis, neither able to make a move as they waited for something to miraculously change.

In a few days, she might appreciate this small silver lining but right now Chloe Decker felt like her life was in serious danger of falling apart completely.

Dan stood, taking an uncertain step towards her before stopping short. "I really do think we work better this way," he all but whispered.

"So that's it then?" she snapped. "You just decide to end things and I'm supposed to go along with it?"

She knew the moments the words left her mouth that they were untrue. It had taken two parties to break this marriage and ignoring the part she'd played was unfair to Dan. When they had first gotten together, they'd been two officers desperate to make the rank of detective. The days had been long, their shifts leaving precious little time for the two of them to engage in more domestic affairs. And for a time it had worked perfectly, stealing away for a few moments to eat dinner together and going on impromptu dates even when they were too tired to see straight.

Then they had made detective, Dan a year earlier than she had, and suddenly the workaholic attitude the two had encouraged became a hindrance. Instead of rushing to the local McDonalds between briefings, Chloe would cook dinner, knowing full well the food would be cold by the time Dan came home. Similarly, the date nights had ended, Chloe too tired, and simply unwilling, to lose the small amount of relaxation time she was granted. They woke up early and went to bed late, the time in between passing in great leaps and bounds.

In the beginning, Chloe hadn't minded. She'd always known Dan was a hard worker. It was one of the things that had first drawn her to him. And she was hardly any better, taking case files home to continue working long after her shift had ended. To her, the limited time they spent together just made it more significant when it finally happened.

Then Trixie had been born and Chloe, home for maternity leave, had begun to realize how often work came between them. Dan hadn't missed a single milestone, he'd changed diapers like a champ, but he was constantly tired. When she returned to the precinct, Chloe found she didn't want to spend endless hours working anymore. She wanted a family, and not the faux imitation her own had been. Her mother had so often been absent while acting and Chloe had hated her for that, for never being the most important thing in her mom's life.

She hadn't wanted that for Trixie.

Dan had tried his best but it was undeniable that he loved work, the thrill of apprehending criminals. He'd begun to miss or arrive late to things, starting with Trixie's fourth birthday party, and Chloe had come to the terrible realization that she'd married her mother. Not literally of course because, yuck, but the two were undeniably similar in how they put their families second, whether they meant to or not.

In some ways, the connection had brought Chloe closer to her own mother. What she could not appreciate as a child, she began to understand as she watched her own marriage fumble. She knew Dan loved her and Trixie but if she ever gave him an ultimatum, if it ever came down to her or the job, she wasn't sure which way Dan would swing.

So they'd broken apart, broken their family apart, in an attempt to salvage what they'd lost. Lost, however, wasn't the right word for it. How could they lose what they'd never had? Dan had always been this way, focused on his career. It had been Chloe who had changed, reaching a point where she was unwilling to compromise any longer.

"Dan, we need to talk about this but I can't do this right now. We have a case." Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have sprung this on you like that. I just," he ran a hand through his hair, "I don't want to pretend anymore. Trixie doesn't even bother asking me when I'm coming home like she used to."

"I understand." And she did. Mostly. "But right now, can we just pretend a little longer?"

Dan nodded, offering a feeble attempt at a smile. "Yeah, I suppose we can."

"Great." And just like that she was back in business mode, as if the last ten minutes had never happened. "I guess I'll have dispatch call Lucifer and tell him where the crime scene is so he can join us." She rose, shouldering her purse. "With any luck, the three of us working together will get the case solved sooner."

"Well I'm not going to complain. Two people working means half as much paperwork." Dan was by now far too familiar with Lucifer to even consider the man would help with paperwork.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You clearly haven't done paperwork with Lucifer hanging over your shoulder." She adopted a terrible British accent. "Oh Detective, I'm too attractive and wealthy for such boring work. Why don't we call up some old friends and throw a little orgy-"

"Orgy? I'm game."

Chloe and Dan whirled around to find Lucifer loping up to them, grinning.

"No orgies. Never!" Dan burst out, perhaps louder than was wise in the crowded bullpen.

"What a shame, Daniel. With all the time you spend in the gym, I've always been curious about your stamina. Oh and Detective," Lucifer continued, even as Dan turned a truly fascinating shade of purple, "I most certainly do _not _sound like that. How you manage to butcher such a sensual accent, I'll never know." He stopped before them, six foot three inches of infectious excitement.

"You're in a good mood today," Chloe noted, taking stock of his appearance.

Every hair was in its proper place, dark blue suit absolutely flawless. More important than that though was the brightness of his eyes, the way he couldn't contain his smile. He looked so different than he had a few days ago, the weighty broodiness no longer stifling him.

"Well Maze doesn't hate me anymore and Lux will be reopening by the end of the week. Oh," he reached for the file sitting on the desk, "new case?"

"Er, yes." Chloe pulled the file out of his hands. "We were about to head out to the crime scene actually."

"Well let's not dally then! There's people to punish, scantily clad women to see." He looked between them impatiently, scratching at his back.

"Riiiight. Hey Lucifer? How about a drug test, buddy." Dan was watching the taller man apprehensively.

"A drug test? I assure you Daniel, it takes more than three lines of coke to get a devil high-"

"Aaaand we're leaving now." Chloe grabbed both men's sleeves, loosely enough for Lucifer to pull free if he wanted, and dragged them towards the exit.

Daniel protested, nearly face planting as he tripped over his own feet as Lucifer whined about his suit. Chloe ignored both, not releasing them until they reached the safety of the parking garage.

"Detective, this Burberry is new!" Lucifer rubbed hard at his sleeve, as if his hand could create enough friction to iron the wrinkles out of the fabric. "And why is Daniel here?"

"Dan is working with us on the case." She waited for Lucifer to argue but he must have found the change agreeable as he didn't protest.

"Well that's fine, I suppose. Talking to witnesses is terribly mundane." He gave Dan a predatory look. "I'm sure our dear Douche will make the process far more _interesting_."

"You know what? I changed my mind. I'll just stay here and count all the paperclips on my desk." Dan backed up a step, hands held up in a non threatening manner.

Lucifer grinned. "Now now, as much as I usually enjoy dominating the Detective's time, she can be an awful buzzkill at crime scenes." He gripped the collar of Dan's jacket and hauled him forward with ease. "Come Daniel."

"Hey man, let go!" Dan's feet scrambled for purchase. "I thought we were good now!"

"We are, this is friendly teasing." Lucifer dragged him to where Chloe's cruiser was parked.

"Well then, I liked it more when we hated each other." Dan continued to struggle. "Seriously, how are you this strong? You're a beanpole!"

"Lucifer, it's great you're feeling so… whatever this is, but could you please stop harassing Dan?" Chloe followed the two, torn between rescuing the poor man and letting him suffer a bit. Her previous internal meltdown was forgotten, Lucifer's antics domineering her mind and leaving little room for anything else.

"Detective," Lucifer gave her the most intense puppy eyes she had ever seen, complete with a pout - where had he learned that trick? - "I'm not harassing him! If I were, I would have complimented his arse. Which is rather lovely in these wonderful skinny jeans he elects to wear."

"Chloe!" Dan wailed, arms bent awkwardly behind him as he tried to pry Lucifer off. Lucifer, however, kept his hand out of reach, using his height advantage to actually lift Dan high enough only his toes brushed the asphalt.

Chloe wasn't sure exactly how much Dan weighed but she was fairly certain it should be impossible for Lucifer to lift him with one hand. In the past when she had witnessed his apparent superhuman strength, it had been during times of duress. She'd always used adrenaline to explain away the phenomenon. Right now though, Lucifer was playing, a cat tormenting a mouse.

What he was doing was essentially impossible. Having seen Lucifer naked on at least one occasion, she could personally attest to how built he was. Yes, he had defined muscles despite his slim shape but he was no body builder.

There was an answer lurking in the back of her mind, a ridiculous reason for his almost supernatural strength. No matter how often he said it though, Chloe knew better than to even entertain the notion Lucifer was actually the Devil.

Still, something about this was all wrong. Did he use steroids? She didn't think so, he didn't have the muscled frame nor any of the other warning signs reminiscent of use of the illicit substance.

So, how did a man who didn't even own so much as a single pair of sweatpants have the strength of someone who lifted weights for ten hours a day?

While she had been thinking, Lucifer had finally put Dan down… in the trash can. Dan was screaming something fierce as he tried to climb out, the echo of Lucifer's laughter drowning out what was most definitely a colorful string of curse words.

Well, at least they hadn't tried to kill each other yet. Though, was it just her or was Dan reaching for his gun?

"Hey!" She hollered. "Will you two grow up please? In case you've forgotten, we have a crime scene to investigate."

Lucifer was the picture of innocence, wide eyed and beaming. "Of course! Shame on you Daniel, this is no time to be playing around."

Chloe intervened before Dan actually shot her partner, helping him out of the trash can. Unlocking her cruiser, she climbed into the driver's seat and waited impatiently for the other two.

Lucifer and Dan however, had taken one look at the car and promptly dissolved into another scuffle over who would ride in the passenger seat.

"My legs will never fit in the back unless I break them!" Lucifer lunged forward.

Dan, however, was remarkably lithe. He ducked under Lucifer's arm, throwing himself awkwardly into the seat and nearly impaling himself on the gear shift.

"Will you two knock it off?" she snarled.

Dan pushed himself up so he was sitting properly. "I called shotgun first! That's the rule." He withered under her scorching glare.

Lucifer meanwhile had climbed into the back seat with no little amount of hemming and hawing, rubbing his back in an irritated manner. Chloe twisted to see his assessment had indeed been correct, his legs absolutely did not fit.

"Move up your seat, Dan." Chloe felt like she was speaking to children Trixie's age instead of adults.

Dan complied, moving his seat up a few inches.

"Thank you ever so," Lucifer growled, settling himself properly.

"Seat belts," Chloe said as she pulled out, earning two groans in return.

Fortunately, the crime scene was not far from the precinct, a park only fifteen minutes away. What _was_ unfortunate was how Lucifer discovered half way through the trip that he could kick Dan's seat.

She ignored the first two, giving her partner the benefit of the doubt. He could just be trying to find a more comfortable position and doing it accidently. Yeah, it sounded weak even to her.

By the fourth kick, she had to admit that Lucifer knew exactly what he was doing. He was being tactical about it though, waiting until Dan had relaxed again before pounding the back of the seat with both his feet. Each time, Dan whipped around to say something but stopped, jaw working furiously and returning to looking out the windshield.

Chloe sped up a bit, dangerously close to speeding. Lucifer wasn't fond of being ignored, it only encouraged his behavior. If he broke the seat, she was going to have to explain to Monroe what had happened and _that _was a conversation she could one hundred percent do without.

"Fuck man! Cut it out!" Dan actually bounced forward from the force of the latest kick, the seat belt locking so he didn't smack his head into the dashboard.

"I swear to god, if you two make me pull over…" She gritted her teeth. As nice as it was that Lucifer was back to his usual jovial self, he was being painfully irritating, even by his standards.

To her surprise, Lucifer calmed a bit though, not kicking Dan again. She had nearly forgotten how attuned he was to her, always knowing when he was about to push her too far. Granted, that didn't always mean he _actually_ stopped.

Glancing in the rear view mirror, she caught him looking back at her, a far gentler smile curling his lips. In spite of herself, she returned the look, though he probably couldn't see it. For a bit there, she had been afraid this part of him had been lost, buried under whatever was going on with him bailing on therapy and the appearance of his brother. The hurt was still there, she was sure, but to see him simply having fun - even if it _was_ at the expense of Dan - well, she wasn't going to discourage the behavior unless he got out of control.

The crime scene, a small park popular with joggers, was still busy when she pulled her car onto the shoulder and parked. The three of them climbed out, her and Dan flashing their badges in a well practiced motion to the officer standing by the crime scene tape.

Lucifer just flashed one of his winning smiles, which for some reason gave him just as much clearance as a badge would have.

The trio approached where the forensics team was in the midst of their preliminary inspection, while further on several more officers were scouting the ground and placing tags near possible evidence.

"What have we got?" Chloe pulled on a pair of gloves from her back pocket and addressed the senior scientist.

The man was making notes on his clipboard. "Emily Ying, twenty-eight. Cause of death is one gunshot wound to the back of the head." He looked up, pointing towards the body with his pen. "We've found the casing, 9mm Luger. We won't be able to give specifics on the gun which fired it until lab testing has been done. Her wallet and other personal effects were left untouched."

"Did anyone hear?" Chloe looked around the area.

The park was really more of a flat grassy space with a few trees. A walk wound through in a cross shape, connecting the sidewalks on either side. There was very little shelter, any walker or jogger clearly visible from the road.

"Officer Richards has several people rounded up. You have to realize, this happened around eight thirty, just after the morning rush would have wound down."

"Which means it's unlikely someone driving by saw what happened," Dan supplied.

"I guess we'll release a statement and see if anyone comes forward," Chloe said. "One of us should do that and the other can talk to the witnesses."

"On it." Dan stripped off his gloves and pulled out his cell phone, moving away to make the call.

Chloe spotted a cluster of people on the far side of the crime scene, several of them with leashed dogs. They must be the eye witnesses then. Bidding farewell to the forensics team, she approached the group.

"Officer Richards?" she asked.

A burly uniformed man turned. "Yeah, that's me."

"You were the first on scene?"

"The call came out as a shot fired so local enforcement was dispatched. I rounded up the eyewitnesses."

Chloe nodded. Homicide wasn't called in until an actual body had been identified. Until that point, it was up to officers to run the scene.

"Well, I can take it from here. Did you start taking statements?"

Richards ripped out a few pages from his notebook. "I was going to wait but a few of them started blabbing out details. You know how it is. Anyway, I wrote it all down just in case."

She accepted the notes, tucking them into her pocket, before turning back to the cluster of a half dozen people.

"I'll try to make this quick as I know you all have places to be." The group murmured their agreement and Chloe turned to her left. "Okay, Lucifer if you'd-"

Where the hell was Lucifer?

She was getting some odd looks from the eyewitnesses now, having just addressed the air next to her.

"Excuse me a moment." She stalked away from the group, searching for her wayward partner.

Lucifer disappearing wasn't strange but he usually at least waited longer than five minutes to do so. If she caught him necking with some woman, she was going to _kill_ him…

"Detective!" He was hurrying towards her, a steaming coffee cup in his hand.

"Lucifer, where did you go? We have witnesses to talk to." Maybe it hadn't been a good idea to not reprimand him earlier. He was being a bigger pain than usual, which was remarkable all in itself.

"Well when I came in this morning I hadn't had any time to get you coffee." He held out the cardboard cup. "I just popped into the place across the street."

"Oh, thank you." She took the offering, lips twitching at his dazzling grin.

"I bought one for Daniel as well." He gestured to where, sure enough, Dan was also holding a coffee. He wasn't drinking it though, instead sniffing the contents warily.

"Er… maybe you should lay off Dan a bit." She watched as Dan decided the coffee was not poisoned and took a small sip.

Lucifer's head cocked. "We were being bros!" he protested.

"You were being… what?"

"Bros! Manly friends or what have you."

"Is that why you threw him in the trash can?"

He huffed. "No actually, I did that because he was whining so much. I had no idea he had such a mouth on him though."

They wandered back to the eyewitnesses, who were growing antsy.

"Okay, I'm Detective Decker. My partner and I will be taking your statements." She appraised the group, most of whom were older individuals. "Now, did any of you see anything?"

A few nodded and Chloe decided to start with those. The ones who had simply heard the gunshot would not be helpful in identifying possible suspects.

Unfortunately, as often was the case with witnesses, most of the information she got was contradictory. Even with Lucifer's desire trick to expedite things, the only details everyone seemed to agree on was only one shot had been fired and the suspect was a male.

Chloe sent them home after taking down their contact information, though she was confident she wouldn't need it. Between the security cameras belonging to the neighboring businesses and the traffic cams, she was certain some footage must have been captured of their suspect.

She went to collect Dan, only to find he was already mobilizing a group to collect camera footage. He assured her he would find someone else to give him a ride so she and Lucifer took the cruiser back to the precinct.

"Do you have that sensation of deja vu?" Lucifer was lounging in the passenger seat, legs extended as far as the car allowed.

"If you're referring to our other case… I mean, the manner of death is similar but Los Angeles sees a ton of shootings."

"280 last year," he supplied.

Her eyes narrowed. "You know that but you can't name the governor?"

"Pardon me but the governor isn't quite as interesting as violent crimes." He squirmed, rubbing his back hard against the seat.

Eyes trained on the road, she watched him in her peripherals. Earlier, he'd been itching his back in the precinct, which was out of character. Actually, she couldn't recall him ever itching himself in general which was a bit weird.

His squirming let up and she pushed to the back of her mind, something to watch for but not to make a fuss over. Yet.

Of course, once they reached the precinct, he was scratching his back again as he climbed out of the car.

"Hey, you okay?" she asked.

Lucifer's scars were a sore spot and she didn't want to bring them up unnecessarily but maybe they were bothering him? If they were burns, as she suspected, all the nerve damage should have left the area pretty numb.

"Why wouldn't I be?" He frowned at her, hand dropping back to his side.

"You've been messing with your back all day." They walked to the elevator, taking it up to their level.

"Have I? Haven't noticed." Though his manner was casual, he was clearly puzzled, brows drawn down thoughtfully.

"Do they, the scars I mean, do they bother you?" She watched him carefully, ready to back off if he clammed up.

He shrugged. "Not the scars themselves, no."

"But?" she pressed.

"I have a bit of stiffness in the morning. Nothing a hot shower can't fix." He was tapping his fingers against his thigh, not jumping on the obvious innuendo he could've made.

"... Does it hurt?"

He was staring straight ahead. "Yes."

She left it at that, turning the information over in her head. Chronic back pain? She'd never even considered that when she'd first seen the scars. Of course there was damage though, it was a massive trauma. Had he even seen a doctor or had the two crescents healed on their own?

Suddenly his comment about being sore after spending the night on her couch was much more serious.

For the next hour, Chloe compiled her witness accounts and ran the ID of the victim. All the while, she kept a close eye on Lucifer. His posture wasn't any different than usual as he sat in his wheelie chair beside her desk but he often shifted around. Most of the time, he didn't seem to be aware of the discomfort, hardly looking up from where he was making paper airplanes and throwing them around the bullpen.

"Oh shit… we've got another famous parent," she groaned some time later, turning her computer screen to show Lucifer. "The victim's mother is Hong Ying, the lawyer."

Lucifer nodded knowingly. "I have no idea who that is."

She rolled her eyes. "She works in the DA's office, does a lot of work representing children and teens. She literally said hello to you three weeks ago when she was here to meet with Monroe about some case."

"I'll take your word on it."

She threw her hands up, exasperated. "How was it you knew Anthony Stone's father was a major pharmacist but you don't know a lawyer we work with?"

"I know all the major pharmacists in the city through my business dealings. I've never had much need for a lawyer."

"Which is a miracle," she muttered.

He heard her. "I assure you, my father has not directly created a miracle in centuries."

Chloe just hummed, knowing better than to try and argue with him. "Anyway, I guess I'll let Monroe know. This could bring out a media circus."

"How so? The daughter wasn't famous and as we've already discussed, plenty of people in this city have been shot, myself included." He threw another of his paper airplanes, landing it neatly on Dan's desk where it joined a dozen others.

"Ying had this big case last year. Do you remember that gang shooting in Northridge?"

"Four minors died if I'm not mistaken. What," he raised a brow at her disbelieving look, "I read the newspaper!"

"Anyway, yeah everyone involved was under the age of seventeen. Ying represented some of the families who said the attacks on their children were unprovoked. It was the kind of case no lawyer in their right mind would voluntarily take. A lot of newspapers said the gang was going to come after her in retaliation for sending so many of their members to jail."

"Revenge is certainly a good motive. You wouldn't believe the people who have the audacity to come into Lux and demand I kill their bosses or mother-in-laws as a favor." He rolled his shoulders. "The number of humans who think they've been wronged is ridiculous. I was tossed into a lake of fire to burn for eternity, I assure you that's a little worse than having a lazy manager."

"So you don't kill people's bosses?" she teased.

"Of course not! I'm not a hitman. If you want someone dead, have the stones to do it yourself."

Shaking her head, Chloe stood. "I'll let Monroe know about the victim's mother. Dan should be back soon with the camera footage and then we can take a look at that. Can you please behave yourself?"

He thought it over. "Can I use your computer?"

"Only if you don't do anything weird like watch porn or illegally stream something. And no downloads."

"Agreed." He jumped into her chair.

Well, that would at least keep him occupied for a bit. She had her meeting with Monroe, who would personally be calling Ms. Ying to inform her about the death of her daughter. That taken care of, she then checked to see if forensics had returned from the crime scene, leaving a note with one of secretaries for someone to contact her.

Dan wasn't back yet so she returned to her desk, intending to get more familiar with their victim and arrange her notes. Once Monroe had notified the proper parties, she could begin interviewing friends and family members, starting with the mother later today. From there, she and Dan could develop a plan for moving forward.

Lucifer was, to her amazement, still at her desk, stabbing away clumsily at her keyboard the way all untrained typists did. Funny, she had seen his fingers fly over piano keys so quickly it was as if he wasn't even touching them. Yet here he was, typing uncertainly with four fingers. Maybe she should sign him up the next time the department sponsored a typing class. She was sure he would pick it up easily once he had been shown how.

"What are you doing?" she asked, coming up to stand beside him.

Lucifer was scanning through an article. "Reading Cosmopolitan."

She coughed, gripping the back of his chair to steady herself. "Isn't that a woman's magazine?"

He glanced at her. "Obviously, but what better way to keep up with the opposite sex? Besides, I need to know the colors are predicted for this winter so I can plan accordingly with my tailor."

"You choose your suit colors based entirely on fashion articles?" Was that weird? It sounded weird.

"Of course, I want to make sure I'm current." He clicked off the article and gave her a once over. "I have several suits I've chosen because they compliment your wardrobe, just to be prepared."

"And you know the contents of my closet because?"

He swapped back to his own chair, crossing his legs neatly. "Well it was all process of elimination if I'm being honest. Blues and greens bring out your eyes but you have special attachment to darker colors - black, grey, navy blue. You don't enjoy dressing, loudly shall we say? So that rules out most of your warmer colors, though personally I think you'd be positively striking in red."

He rattled off his assessment confidently, not a hint of hesitation in his voice. Even worse, everything he had surmised was absolutely true.

"So you just look at someone and boom, you know what they like to wear?"

"Hardly. Here," he leaned forwards, elbows resting on his knees, "most of your work clothes are dark, correct? It makes sense, black and grey are professional, practical. You can mix and match as often as you like, which means you don't need to own as many pieces. All you need to do is change the shirt up and you can wear the same jacket twice in a work week. And when you do add a bit of color to your ensemble, it's almost always cool colors, a preference which logically is present in everything else you wear."

She should be creeped out but there was something oddly flattering about Lucifer studying her well enough to know what she liked. Dan couldn't even remember her favorite snacks, nevermind something like this. She'd always assumed it was sort of a guy thing to ignore those sorts of details.

"So, hypothetically, if we went out to dinner…" she left the question hanging.

He jumped on it immediately. "I have a wonderful sky blue vest which pairs nicely with a black suit and white shirt. Unless you chose a darker dress, then I would exchange the suit of course."

His fast delivery, not even a moment spared to think, made her wonder if he'd ever thought about this scenario before. Had he planned this months ago, what he would wear, where they would eat, if she ever considered going on a date with him? In the beginning of their partnership, he'd pursued her often enough but mostly that had felt like teasing. Had any of his propositions ever been serious?

Did she care?

The sudden awkward place she found herself in was broken by Monroe appearing at her desk.

"Lieutenant," she greeted, while Lucifer dipped his head.

"Mr. Morningstar, how wonderful of you to join us," Monroe smiled.

"I am delighted to return. And to be greeted with a new murder case! You'll spoil me." He popped on one of his more sensual smirks.

To Chloe's dismay, Monroe actually blushed. "Something tells me that's not possible."

"What can I do for you?" Chloe said, cutting through the sexual tension that had collected, thick and heavy as cream.

Monroe blinked. "We have a lead on your case." She set down a piece of paper. "When I called Ms. Ying, she informed me that her family had received several death threats last year after the Northridge case from a Lisa Moore."

"Did this woman have any connection to the case?"

"Moore's son was one of the ring leaders of the shoot out and received the most serious sentence. She claimed her son did nothing wrong and implied Ms. Ying had deliberately chosen to target him during the trial."

"And you think this could have been a revenge thing? You stole my son so I take your daughter?" Chloe tapped a pen against her desk thoughtfully. It was a reasonable theory.

"Correct. I think we should put focus on all the parents of those gang members who were sentenced. As we have several proven threats from Moore though, I'd like to start there."

"Okay," Chloe stood. "Dan's still out collecting CV footage so in the meantime, Lucifer and I will speak to Lisa Moore. Do you have an address?"

"Yes," Monroe's lip twitched. "The family moved away after the trial and threats. Currently, they live in Fresno."

"Fresno. As in the _city_ of Fresno. The one that's about four hours from here? _That_ Fresno?"

Lucifer half rose from his chair. "Detective, are you having a stroke?"

Monroe nodded. "Yes Decker, that Fresno. I would simply call their own department to look into this but as everything about the situation has all the makings of a planned hit, I'd rather we keep this in house for the time being."

"Right, okay."

"You will be reimbursed for your time. You know the drill, keep your receipts and hand them in when you return. Though, I must ask that you and your partner express some level of restraint when spending department money. We never financially recovered from when Detective Thompson stayed in that four star hotel last time we had a case beyond the city and indulged in a lobster dinner every evening."

Chloe laughed hollowly, thinking about all the details she would have to take care of. Someone would have to watch Trixie and most likely stay the night with her. By the time they got on the road, it would be past noon so even if they got lucky and arrived in Fresno by six, they would have to spend at least two hours or more in the city before driving home again. Either way, there was no way they'd get back before three in the morning.

"We're going on a little road trip?" Lucifer was not nearly as perturbed by such silly things as details. Actually, he looked rather excited by the prospect of spending the rest of the day out of the precinct. "I haven't been to Fresno before. We'll have to check out the club scene."

"No unnecessary spending," she said absently, going to call Dan and ask if he could take Trixie for the night. "Hey, if you need to make any arrangements, do it now because I want to leave as soon as possible."

In the end, it took her nearly half an hour to set up a sitter to watch Trixie until Dan's shift was over. Lucifer had wandered off some time ago, returning with what looked like half the contents of the vending machine in his arms.

At her baffled look, he'd simply responded, "Snacks."

She sent him off to put the food in the car while she filled out the paper necessary for taking the cruiser beyond county lines. Once that was finished, she gathered her files and straightened her desk.

When she made it to the parking garage, she found Lucifer smoking a cigarette while he waited for her. Seeing her, he dropped the butt carelessly, grinding it with the toe of his shoe. He was still oddly excited about the trip, even though it was going to be ninety percent driving.

"Ready to go?" she asked, climbing into the driver's seat and starting the car.

"Yep." He settled beside her, reclining the seat a few inches so his hair didn't graze the roof.

For the first hour, things went about as well as could be expected. They talked a bit, mostly about the case, but the ride was predominantly quiet, just the radio playing.

Chloe wanted to enjoy the near silence, a treat any mother would covet, but rarely had she found it to be a good thing when Lucifer stopped talking. She looked over to him periodically, wondering what was bugging him.

He was still shifting restlessly, rubbing his back against the seat every few minutes. Now, however, it seemed he was aware he was doing it, his face caught in a perpetual grimace that only grew darker the longer they drove.

At the end of the second hour, Chloe pulled off the I-5 so they could eat a late lunch, refusing to eat just the snacks Lucifer had bought for them. Lucifer, who had apparently never used a drive through before, was positively delighted with the experience, so much so, he only complained twice about having to eat McDonalds - though judging from his look of ecstasy as he'd demolished a Big Mac, he wasn't heartbroken about the choice.

Not long after returning to the highway however, he dropped back into contemplative silence. Chloe mentally ran through topics to bring up to distract him but she couldn't think of anything to say. The longer the quiet stretched, the more awkward it felt to break it with some random comment.

His constant shifting was seriously worrying her though. When she'd shot him, he hadn't been nearly this uncomfortable looking.

"Are you okay?" she finally asked.

He looked over, startled from wherever his mind had been. "Pardon?"

"You're practically dancing in your seat. Do you need me to pull over or something?"

"Oh, no. I'm fine." He stilled beside her, hands folded over his stomach.

She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, the first signs of traffic appearing around her. "You can tell me if you're not. I won't judge you or anything."

For a long moment, he was absolutely silent, not even his breathing audible. Then, he sighed. "Something just feels wrong, that's all."

"And your back?" she prompted.

He groaned, rubbing the side of his face. "It doesn't hurt but...I keep getting this crawling feeling under my skin."

"Have you gotten this feeling before?" She kept her tone as soothing as possible, fearful so much as raising her voice would snap him out of his sharing mood.

"No… yes, actually. But it was eons ago." His face slackened as he stared ahead at something only he could see.

"What happened?" The traffic had officially caught up to them and Chloe was able to look away from the road long enough to study him properly.

"My wings. Michael, my brother, he tried to break my wings."

Chloe rolled up a few feet but kept her focus directly on Lucifer. His face had warped into horror, a muscle in his jaw jumping.

"He came up behind me with a… a sword I think, while I wasn't expecting it. There was no instinct to tell me I was about to be attacked. Why would there be? I trusted my family. Trusted _him_. My back tingled and somehow I knew my wings were in danger. I just managed to avoid his attack, not that it did me any good in the end. Dad had him kick me out right after."

She tried to sift through his tale, pick apart the metaphor and put it back together in terms she could understand. A sixth sense for danger, she knew all about that, knew the feeling of having a gun drawn on you. For her, it was a tickle at the back of her head but she supposed it could manifest differently depending on the person.

"So you think you're in danger?" In spite of herself, she looked at the back seat. But unless the bags of potato chips were about to launch an assault, they were safe. Lucifer's instincts were normally infallible though.

"I'm not," he said firmly. "Amenadiel was the only threat and he has been neutralized. Besides, you're here." His feature softened.

A horn screeched behind them and Chloe returned her gaze to the road, rolling forward again. Next to her, she could feel Lucifer's growing discomfort. Discussing aloud what ailed him had only made the situation worse, his tension making her nervous as it infected the confined space like a cancer.

"What can I do to help you?"

Despite Lucifer's fondness for truth, a direct approach rarely worked with him. Chloe didn't want to keep doing this though, allowing him to suffer because she couldn't break through to him.

"I'm fine," he said, shuttering himself off.

Usually, that was where the conversation would end. Things had changed in the past few weeks though. Lucifer wasn't just some guy she worked with anymore. She trusted him with her daughter, had patched him up after a horrific beating. Friends would do those things for each other but she remembered kissing his forehead two nights ago.

They weren't exactly friends were they? But, that begged the question, what the hell were they then?

Either way, she was not going to back down this time around. He deserved that much. More, if she was being honest. Lucifer was constantly demonstrating how well he knew her. Maybe it was time she reciprocated.

"Is it okay if I hold your hand?" she asked, resisting the urge to look over and see his reaction.

She'd picked one of a few touches he seemed receptive to. Or least, one that didn't freak him out. When she'd checked his knuckles while the two of them were cleaning up the plate she'd broken in her kitchen, he had only tensed for a moment or two, relaxing into the touch quickly.

His sharp exhale may well have been a gunshot in the near silence. "Why Detective, I had no idea that's how you felt," he purred.

She did not respond to his teasing, knowing he was using it to hide.

"May I?" she asked again.

This time, there was no quip. Her behavior must have pushed him off balance, which was understandable. Humor and flirting were his main defenses after all.

"If you desire it," he said cautiously.

Always with the desire thing. If she said she desired breaking his nose, would he let her? Better not test that, actually.

"Lucifer, it's not about what I want. Do _you_ want it?"

"Fine, though Dad knows why."

Traffic had picked up a bit and Chloe reached for him blindly, keeping her movements slow. Her hand found his where it rested rigidly on his knee. Working her fingers under his gently, she ran the pad of her thumb lightly across the inside of his wrist. As she'd expected, his hand remained tense for a moment. Then, slowly, he began to relax.

His skin was warm, feverishly so, but soft, palm unmarred by callouses. She kept her hand as non-constricting as possible in case he wanted to pull away but she needn't have worried. After only a few minutes, he'd stopped moving around, body slumping bonelessly into his seat.

She didn't say a word, not wanting to scare him off. This was all so new for him and she felt a certain responsibility in helping. Would he ever be comfortable enough to accept a hug without a grimace? She didn't know.

For now though, this was more than enough.

* * *

"Are you sure you know where we're going? We've gone through this intersection twice now."

"This is the way the GPS says." Chloe gritted her teeth. After driving for four and a half hours, she was not in the most accommodating mood.

Lucifer huffed at her irritation. He had perked up considerably once they'd entered Fresno, pointing out places he wanted to get a closer look at, including, of all things, a strip club. Now Chloe was no prude but seriously? They were in the middle of a case. Did the man have any sense of priorities?

She might have told him off but he was still holding her hand. It had taken over an hour for him to tighten his grip and twine their fingers together but once it had happened, he'd clearly had no intention of letting go.

To an outsider, the gesture would have seemed intimate, and it was, though not in any conventional sense. Chloe hadn't dared ask, fearful of his answer, but she suspected she was the first one who had done this, had been _allowed_ to do this. Only once had she tried to pull her hand away, not confident enough to make a one handed turn.

His grip had become iron the moment she'd tried to pull away, imploring her to stay. In the end, they'd missed their turn and had to backtrack but Chloe couldn't bring herself to be annoyed.

The twenty minutes they'd gotten lost? _That_ she was a little bothered by. It was nearly seven, traffic having been a sprawling monster of a headache. For every two people who got off the highway, another ten had gotten on, all conveniently headed for Fresno as well. She had never imagined a situation where she would miss the LA rush hour but now, she thought back to her evening commute with, dare she say, _fondness._

"I think the GPS is faulty," Lucifer said haughtily. "If I didn't know better, I'd say we're taking the long way."

"Which you would know, having literally never been here." She regretted the edge that had crept into her voice but Lucifer didn't seem to mind all that much.

"Just an observation," he said mildly, looking out the window curiously. "Though I'd say we must be getting close, we're practically in a slum!"

Okay, that was a little uncalled for. The neighborhood they were driving through wasn't pretty, paint peeling from houses and overgrown weeds spilling onto the roads, but it was hardly a slum. Actually, it reminded Chloe a bit of where she and Dan had rented before the separation.

"What kind of house did you grow up in then, if you think this is a slum?" she challenged.

Lucifer's hand stiffened, a barely noticeable tremble running down to his finger tips. "I didn't exactly grow up in what you would consider a house."

Oh, real honest to God information about his past. Finally! All her patience had finally paid off.

"Do you mean you grew up in an apartment complex?" Or outside in a tent. The extremist theory was getting more and more likely all the time.

"No actually, I lived in a castle... well, not precisely but it's the closest comparison I can draw."

"A castle," she repeated. "Like, with towers and drawbridges?"

He laughed. "Not quite. I really can't explain it to you. Perhaps a drawing would suffice."

"So, you grew up in a castle," she accepted easily, keen for him to continue. "Your family is rich?"

"In a manner of speaking," he said dryly.

Well, that was that, the extremist theory was officially out. Which was a shame, she'd been rather partial to it. This though, she could work with at least. Concrete proof, straight from his mouth. How many habitable castles were there in the world? She could probably find out with a little help from Google. And from there? It should be easy to track him down once she had at least a country of origin.

"Is that how you bought Lux?" she asked.

He shot her an offended look. "Of course not! When I was cast out, I had nothing. I built myself, Detective. Trading favors to reach the top. My family had nothing to do with it."

"Okay, okay," she soothed. "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me."

"If you must know, when Mazikeen and I first came here, we had one coin between us." Despite his agitation, he hadn't drawn his hand away from her though surely he must've wanted to. The heat of his skin had made her own hand clammy.

"Just one?"

"My Pentacostal coin. It's not worth much here, aside from the fact it's solid silver."

She sort of knew the coin he was referring to, having seen it once or twice. There was a pentagram on one side, she recalled, and some animal head on the other. A goat maybe? She'd honestly never given the coin much thought, the obvious satanic references seeming too on the nose to be anything more than a joke, sort of like how his dress shoes always had red soles.

The GPS beeped, notifying her their destination was near. Scanning either side of the residential road they were cruising down, she took in the mostly burned out street lights, the overgrown lawns flopping lazily onto the asphalt.

She rolled to a stop across the street of the Moore's house. The roof had a definite sag, the front stoop only a few miserable feet from the road. The stucco exterior was discolored and worn, patches of white showing through the paint.

This time, Lucifer let her pull her hand away, the two of them climbing out of the car. The street was deserted, most of the houses dark. Unconsciously, she double checked her gun was in its holster. She didn't really expect she would have to use it but after spending so much time dealing with the Los Angeles gang scene, she knew being prepared for the worst never hurt.

Even Lucifer appeared to have some misgivings. He didn't stride boldly to the door but instead kept just behind her, head twisting every which way as he looked around.

They climbed uneven concrete steps, cramming to fit on the small stoop. Chloe went to ring the doorbell but changed her mind, rapping smartly on the door instead.

"Did you lock the car?" Lucifer asked. He was still scanning the street like he expected an attack.

"No, why?" Was he still on about his slum theory? Okay, this wasn't the nicest neighborhood she'd ever seen but that didn't mean it was dangerous or anything.

"My Cool Ranch Puffs are in there."

"Lucifer, I guarantee that no one is going to steal your snacks." She knocked again, louder. "If it really matters that much to you though, you can wait in the car."

She hid her smirk as he protested, knocking for a third time. Lucifer helpfully pressed the doorbell.

Frustrated, she tried to peer through one of the windows. Though the discolored lace curtains were closed, the darkness beyond was discernible.

"Looks like no one's home," she groaned. "We should've called ahead."

"If we'd tipped her off, she might have run." Lucifer knocked one last time before giving up, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his inside pocket and lighting up. "On the other hand, she might be taking a month-long vacation in New Zealand and this entire trip was a waste."

"Thanks, that makes me feel loads better." She sank down to sit on the step, waiting for him to finish his cigarette. No way in hell was she letting him smoke in the cruiser.

She looked through the semi-darkness, broken street lights doing little to ward off the night. Lucifer's cigarette glowed above her head, one solitary flame.

"What do you suggest we do now?" he asked.

"I guess we'll try again tomorrow. We can't just leave without talking to her. I hope Dan's making some progress at least." She would have to call him later. Monroe too.

"Shall I arrange a hotel for us? I don't have many connections in this particular city but I'm sure I could manage to find some place suitable."

She looked up, trying to see his face in the poor lighting. The cigarette between his lips, nearly a butt now, reflected in his eyes, dark glittering beetles.

"I'm not going to spend your money. We'll get a motel room or something and the department will reimburse us."

The butt hit the ground and sparked against the concrete before a dress shoe came down and snuffed out the light. "Detective, I insist on you spending the night in suitable lodgings."

"A motel _is _suitable."

He grunted in disagreement but Chloe was not willing to compromise. Money aside, if she didn't hand in a receipt for a motel, there were going to be rumors. She and Dan hadn't even gotten the chance to talk about their impending divorce and under no circumstances was she going to let a rumor about herself and Lucifer spread around the precinct. Which was exactly what was going to happen if Lucifer got them some swanky room in a four star hotel. Gossip was worth its weight in gold at the precinct.

"C'mon, we passed a place before." She rose, going back to the car and turning the GPS back on.

Lucifer followed. "If you're talking about that two story roach motel-"

"You were the one excited about taking a road trip. This is how it works." She pulled out and made a u-turn.

"May I at least buy you dinner?" he asked.

"With all the snacks you brought? We'll just order a pizza and eat chips." Why was he being so insistent?

They left the residential area behind, houses replaced by businesses as they back tracked. Lucifer was quiet, once again shifting in his seat. She looked over but he was leaning against the window, watching the neon lights of liquor stores and restaurants they passed.

Finding the motel was easy enough, overlarge signs riddled with arrows pointing the way. She pulled into a space just outside the office, ignoring Lucifer's grumbling. If he had such an issue with where they were staying, he could go find his own place.

The office was staffed by a pockmarked teen who was reading a magazine. He looked up from beneath his bangs as they entered.

"Hourly?" he asked.

Chloe shook her head, miffed by the assessment. She wasn't _with_ Lucifer. They didn't even look like a couple.

Did they?

"Can we get," she checked the prices on a faded board overhead. Christ, two hundred dollars a night for one room? "Do you have any rooms with two twins?"

Lucifer made a noise and she elbowed him. There was no way they were going to spend four hundred dollars for just one night. It was the off season, what was with these prices?

The boy looked between them. "Right, yeah."

Chloe filled out the appropriate paperwork, handed over her credit card, and collected two keys. Lucifer had disappeared outside but he hadn't strayed far. She found him rummaging around in her trunk.

"What are you looking for?" she asked. All she kept in the back was a first aid kit and the spare tire.

In response, he held up a leather overnight back, slim as a briefcase.

"When did you have the time to pack that?" She handed him his room key.

"I always keep a bag in my car for emergencies." He shut the trunk and moved to the back seat, pulling out some of the snacks and handing over her own briefcase.

Huh, she hadn't known he was capable of thinking ahead like that.

The room was on the second floor and, despite Lucifer's earlier assessment, was neater than she would've expected. The two beds fit nicely, a coffee maker sitting beside a small television on the dresser. The bathroom was cramped but clean and the air conditioning was working which was all she could ask for really.

Lucifer was mightily unimpressed though. He was sniffing so much, he sounded like he had the flu as he inspected the room critically. Chloe took a seat on the bed closest to the door, watching as he moved things around, running his fingers over the dresser and checking for dust.

"I know this isn't the kind of place you're accustomed to but don't you think you're being a little obsessive?" she asked.

He ignored her, straightening with a frown. "It's musty, there might be mold."

"It's just one night."

"Are you certain I can't convince you to let me move our lodgings elsewhere?"

She sighed, flopping back on the surprisingly comfortable bed. "We already paid," she reminded him.

"I'd repay you." Now he was opening all the drawers, rummaging through their meager contents.

What was going on with him? She knew he wasn't fond of the place, it would have been astounding if he had, but he was being downright negative. And why did he keep offering to pay for things? There wasn't any need, he knew that. With all the money he spent, she would have assumed he'd like a break.

Unless…

"Do you have a problem with me paying for the room?" She sat up again, studying his back as he tried to peer through one of the wall vents near the ceiling.

He didn't jump to disagree, which meant yes, he did have a problem. Why though? She knew he had all sorts of hang ups when it came to chivalry but he'd never been this overbearing before. One of the most refreshing things about him was his belief she was automatically his equal. He didn't put much stock in gender roles as far as she could tell. If she wanted to be the one to drive to a crime scene or decide where they ate for lunch, he never insisted it be the other way around.

Lucifer was taking way too much care in checking that a tiny crack in the wall wasn't a sign of severe structural damage.

"Lucifer, talk to me. What's the problem?"

He turned away from the wall, finally out of things to poke and prod. "I don't have a problem," he said stiffly.

"Then why are you acting like this is the first time anyone's ever paid for you - oh."

He looked away, rubbing at his back jerkily. For once though, Chloe could actually empathise with him.

"You know, I don't like it when people spend money on me either." She locked her gaze on the worn carpet, hoping he would feel better if she didn't scrutinize him. "I always feel like I owe them. The first few dates I went out with Dan were disastrous when it came time to pay for dinner or the movies or whatever. I always wanted to split things evenly but he had been brought up to believe a man paid for everything on a date."

"I don't like owing anyone favors," Lucifer said quietly.

She resisted the urge to look up, least she jolted him back into silence. "It's not always like that though."

"Yes it is." There was a bitter bite to his words that she hadn't expected. "I'm the Devil, Detective. It all comes back to deals and favors in the end. I assure you, no one does anything for me simply because they _want _to."

He didn't sound all that cut up about the last part but Chloe sucked in a sharp breath all the same.

"Is that why you think I paid for the motel room, because I want something from you?" She stood, glaring. "You know what? Yeah, I did want something. I wanted us to sleep in proper beds instead of spending the night in the car. You're my friend, remember? And that means I can do things for you without expecting anything in return."

Sometimes she forgot how it was the most basic of conventions that usually tripped him up. There were so many things she took for granted, she realized, that he struggled with regularly. It must be exhausting.

"Did you find any take out menus when you were snooping around?" She dropped back onto the bed. Tomorrow, she would probably have to bring this up again as she could tell from his puzzled expression that he didn't understand. How someone who could constantly give as he did be unable to receive was a question she would possibly never find a satisfactory answer for. "We can order something and see if Dan has any more information."

Wordlessly, Lucifer handed her the stack of menus, filtering out a few unsuitable options. They decided on just a regular pizza. While he called it in with the motel room phone, she called Dan.

The conversation was painfully stilted, even though it remained strictly work related. Now that the word divorce had been brought up, it hung over them like thunder clouds. Whatever easy manner they'd lapsed into during the separation dispersed like mist. She felt like they had returned to the days just after Dan had moved, when even greeting one another had felt like a momentous task.

Fumbling as they did, Chloe managed to extract a decent chunk of information, adding it to her own file. The CV footage would take some time to sift through but Dan had spoken with the victim's mother, who had given a detailed explanation of her daughter's morning routine. Apparently her daily jog rarely varied, meaning it would be easy for someone to simply choose a spot and wait for her. The more she heard, the more sound the hit theory became. Dan had canvassed the area, asking local businesses if anyone had noticed someone unfamiliar hanging around the park in the past week or two. Though he hadn't gotten any names, the bakery across the street was able to describe a medium built man who wore a grey jacket with the hood pulled up, no matter the weather.

After saying goodnight to Trixie, she hung up. Lucifer had long ago gotten off the phone with the pizza place and was now sprawled on his own bed, flipping through the limited channels boredly.

"Dan thinks someone was able to give a description of a possible suspect."

"Who you think our Lisa Moore hired." He stopped on some cheesy action flick.

"I don't think people realize how common hits are. It's not something that just happens in the movies." She glanced through the file again, paying particular attention to the crime scene photos. "One clean shot to the back of the head, that's not just some botched robbery."

"Similar to how the other chap died, isn't it? He was shot in the back of the head too." His sock clad feet flexed from where they hung off the edge of the bed. "Though Miss Ying's ID wasn't nicked."

"No, forensics said nothing of her's, even the jewelry, appeared to have been touched. We'll have to double check with her mother about that and make sure, of course."

They continued talking about the case. Lucifer made a list of gangs - adding several tasteless doodles in the margin - he knew were willing to take contracts while Chloe checked the names against the Ying's on her laptop, looking for anything that stood out. Court trials. School records. Everything she could think of.

A knock at the door halted their work. It was the delivery boy who, along with the pizza, had also brought a two liter bottle of coke. Chloe was glad for the addition. In her haste to leave earlier, she hadn't brought any water.

They sat crossed legged on her bed, pizza box between them as they ate on paper plates, drinking directly from the soda bottle like teenagers. It had taken a bit of work to coerce Lucifer into joining her instead of eating at the table in the corner but he had eventually relented, though he had still taken off his jacket and draped a napkin over his lap to protect his clothes. Baby steps.

"I haven't done this since high school," she admitted, popping open one of the chip bags after eating two slices. She'd gotten crumbs on the bedspread and she swiped them into a little pile.

"What, have an incredibly attractive man in your bed?" Lucifer was halfway through his fourth slice.

The tension from before had broken like a fever, their typical banter returning.

"Shut up," she laughed. "I'm being serious. Once I got into the acting thing, my mom decided behaving like a regular teenager was below me."

"But not flashing those wonderful breasts of yours?"

"She didn't even blink when I told her about that role. My dad was disappointed when he found out, even though he tried to hide it." She sobered some at the memory. "He was so proud though, kept telling everyone he knew that I was going to be a star."

Lucifer polished off his fifth slice, eyeing the last one. She wordlessly pushed the box towards him and he wasted no time in devouring that one as well. Seriously, where was he putting all those calories? Dan had been right before, he _was_ built like a beanpole.

"Your father was proud even though he was disappointed?" Lucifer asked, confused.

She nodded, putting their trash in the empty pizza box so it would be easier to dispose of later. "I think he would have preferred I hadn't flashed the world but he never tried to deter me from acting. My dad was always content with what I decided to be, so long as I wasn't actively putting myself in danger or anything."

"Mine wasn't."

She stilled, looking up to where Lucifer wasn't quite meeting her eyes. Mentally she slapped herself. Bringing up her father had been in poor taste. For all the scars he carried, visible or otherwise, it was the tattered relationship with his father that fueled some of Lucifer's more erratic behaviors. Even knowing scarcely anything about the man who had raised, and abused, Lucifer, it wasn't difficult to see that the damage inflicted was a writhing cancer eating away at him.

"My father… He had all these grand opinions about what all of us should be, what _I_ should be. At first, it was easy to comply. We didn't know better. Our whole world was Him and Mum." He began fiddling with his cuff links. "Though I don't suppose you want to hear any of this. It's…" he trailed off uncertainly, looking surprised he had even spoken about it in the first place.

"If you want to talk about it, I'll listen. I told you before, I'm here for you." She watched his stilted manner, wondering when, if ever, he'd shared like this. "So what changed?" She prompted when the quiet dragged on.

He stared directly at her and it nearly scorched her, the intensity in those dark eyes. "I guess I did or maybe I was different from the start. We had all these rules and disobeying wasn't even a possibility. Dad had decided long ago what our places in the universe would be and everyone except myself was okay with that."

"Your mother, she didn't do anything?" Chloe couldn't help but ask. His mother was probably the family member Lucifer brought up the least. He often grouped his siblings together into one lump but his mother? Chloe had heard him, including now, mention the woman maybe twice.

"She created her fair share of discontent." He was still looking at her but not really. No, his eyes were glazed over with memories from a far off time. "Dad kicked her out too in the end. They'd been fighting for some time up until that point but I suppose she wore the old bastard down. I don't know what exactly happened, I was long gone by that point. Funny, one moment of disobedience led to my demise but the amount of crap He let her get away with…

"She was lovely you know, in the beginning. There was an orchard Dad had created for her and she would take us there sometimes. We used to play all sorts of frivolous games and it would always end in tears because someone cheated or got their feelings hurt." A slight smile ghosted over his features, almost fond. "She never scolded us then, not the way Dad did at least. When Doctor Martin asked about happy memories, I wanted to bring that up, those days in the orchard."

"Why didn't you? They sounded nice." She moved a bit closer, wanting to do something to wipe away his hollowed expression.

"It was the most at peace I'd ever felt," he sighed, a world weary sound, and the smile became a grimace. "But those brothers and sisters I played with were the same ones who taunted and jeered as I was cast out. None of them said anything in my defense or bothered trying to understand me. I was dragged before them, judged, and banished. The memories of the orchard, they're ash now. All my memories are ash."

He ducked his head, almost shamefully, awaiting her judgement. Chloe had no intention of judging him though. His family? She was judging them plenty but the man before her, her partner, her friend, he didn't deserve any of it.

Raw pain was wafting off him in waves, a bloody hurt fresh as the day the wounds had been inflicted. His silence, how long had he allowed old hurts to fester?

People often acted like anything could heal, given enough time. As if the abandoned child would someday miraculously come to terms with being left behind and 'get over it'. There wasn't a time limit on pain and wounds that never properly closed hadn't a chance of even starting the healing process.

Lucifer loathed his father with unmatched fury but he so rarely spoke about his siblings and mother and now she understood why. Those memories of the orchard, memories of love and affection, how could he ever be expected to get over losing all that so callously?

How could anyone?

Maybe she had been going about this all wrong. Lucifer _did_ know what love was, had experienced it during those days in the orchard. To have it then taken away, his entire family turn on him, no wonder he had intimacy issues.

"Come here," she beckoned, setting the pizza box full of trash on the floor.

He cocked his head but complied, scooting closer until their knees brushed. Delicately, she reached up towards his face, giving him every chance to draw back. When he didn't she ghosted her hand down the side of his cheek, his stubble rough against her skin.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "For all of it."

He looked awed, expression lost. "I believe you," he said at last.

Some far off piece of her mind recognized this was the first apology she hadn't seen him simply wave off as if he didn't believe it. Withdrawing her hand, she settled back against the headboard. He didn't leave though, awkwardly kneeling beside her with his hands fisted on his knees.

He wanted something, she could tell by the way he involuntarily leaned towards her, but he didn't seem to know how to ask. Maybe he didn't even recognize what it was he wanted.

Chloe was a detective though, not that that made any difference. Any mother would recognize his silent yearning, the plea he couldn't give voice to.

Sitting up again, she ran a hand through his hair. He trembled beneath the touch, a full body shiver like she'd dumped cold water on him.

This was her last chance to stop. A million thoughts raced through her head. How this could change everything. How this could change nothing. The lines drawn in the sand were being washed away by rolling waves of froth, leaving behind no signs.

Mostly though, she thought of Dan. For most of the day, the word divorce had been a shackle, a chain which weighed against her throat and chest. Until now, it had never occurred to her that maybe it had not been a chain but freedom.

Funny, twelve hours ago she had been devastated by the thought of getting the divorce. Now, she wondered why they had hung on so long in the first place. In nine months, neither of them had even proposed trying to fix things. It just hadn't seemed important. If anything, she was more torn up about the shame of admitting her marriage was a failure than the loss of Dan.

She wasn't losing Dan though, was she? Even as she stroked Lucifer's hair, pretending to not see the wonder in his bright eyes, she realized it had been years since Dan and herself had ever done anything like this. If not for Trixie, who knows when they would have split up. They'd loved each other, still did, but love wasn't always enough to keep a relationship strong.

Taking this step forward, though comforting a friend was usually about platonic as one could get, would be the end of her relationship with Dan. She had a sense that she had to decide here and now, who she was to give a chunk of herself to - whether to give her marriage one last shot or give Lucifer what he needed. Because if she took this step forward only to pull away later, she could not comprehend the damage it would do to Lucifer. The same was true of Dan if she tried again and three months down the road decided it still wasn't working.

She knew the choice her brain wanted but the organ beating deep in her chest had other ideas. Chloe had always valued logic but maybe, just this once, she could rely on faith..

Resting her hand across Lucifer's shoulders, she guided him down as she resettled. He resisted, back locking, and she moved her hand to play with the hairs at the base of his neck, freeing them of their gelled confines. As she'd noted a week ago, he enjoyed the gentle petting, and when she directed him down again, he went willingly.

It took a bit of maneuvering, Lucifer hopelessly lost once he realized it wasn't sex she was interested in, but she took her time, guiding him until his head rested on her stomach as he laid on his side. He shifted uneasily but she returned her hand to his hair, working at his trapped curls until he relaxed.

Once again, she wondered at his inability to take even that which was so freely offered. Was it a matter of pride? Self worth? Either way, it didn't much matter to her. She would provide for him, a well of affectionate touches from which he could draw from greedily. There was nothing she wanted in return, he'd already given her a precious gift just by letting her in.

With her free hand, she reached for her phone, pulling up her emails and scrolling through them idly, though he was, first and foremost, her main focus.

Without her direction, Lucifer laid splayed uncomfortably, not sure where to put his limbs. She continued to run her hand through his hair, combing pieces free and skating her nails against his skull. Eventually, he curled up tightly, resting one arm across her stomach and tucking his face into the crook of his arm to hide. From the light, the memories, or the love she was trying desperately to convey, neither could say.

His bent legs burrowed under her own and even in this position, their feet nearly touched. He was warm, a line of heat against her body, and despite herself, Chloe felt her eyes grow heavy.

She couldn't fall asleep like this though. That would be too much and probably give him the wrong impression. Eventually, she would have to relocate him to his own bed.

She had been denying it to herself, maybe to both of them. She'd known it the moment he'd kissed her cheek in the club, the moment he'd been cuddled on the couch with Trixie.

They weren't friends, not really. There was something more, a fondness she'd deliberately ignored, not allowed to explore while still married.

Right now wasn't about that though. There would be time later for her to sort through her feelings and make decisions. Attraction was all well and good but she didn't have the luxury of being able to fall head first into any relationship she pleased. There were a million reasons she and Lucifer could never work.

There were a million reasons they _could_.

Setting her phone aside, she looked down at Lucifer, his side rising and falling gently as he breathed slowly.

Tomorrow, maybe he would be angry with her, angry at himself even. He still viewed emotions as weakness, nevermind whatever it was that had driven him here, seeking to be consoled. There would be jokes and plenty of aloofness on his part no doubt, and it _would _hurt her, clean slits he'd cut into her every time he pretended this moment meant nothing.

He would come back to her eventually. The tight grip he had on her midsection, fearful she would pull away, the way he'd locked their legs together, attested to that fact.

Recovery was a long and twisted road, she'd always known that. Traumas didn't just disappear and scars never faded. She couldn't guarantee that one day he wouldn't run or break her heart by doing something stupid. He was an addict, delusional, and had enough trust and commitment issues to keep an entire team of therapists employed.

Yet he was also one of the sweetest people she'd ever met and he did try. In the past four months, he'd come so far and, with a little bit of luck, that progress would continue.

It wasn't just her feelings at stake though.

The term codependency kept drifting through her head. As great as his progress was, she worried that he was narrowing his world to just her. He was getting on better with Dan, which was a huge plus, but she doubted he would ever feel comfortable enough with the other man to talk as freely as he did with her. What would happen if she were the one to run? Worse, what if it was that fear that caused her to stay?

Sighing, she ruffled his hair, enjoying the way his gravity defying curls peaked in little mountains. She was getting ahead of herself though. When they'd first met, Lucifer had spoken at length about sleeping with her but dating? He might not be interested in settling down and she refused to have a fling. When they got home, after her and Dan had spoken to lawyers and there was time to heal, maybe then they could talk about where the future was going.

It was obvious, in a blinding LED headlight sort of way, that she wanted to be there for him, be his support and his refuge and whatever else he needed. She'd been avoiding that particular truth, staving off any feelings of _more_. It had started the day they first worked together and been building, layering, ever since.

At the moment, the future didn't really matter though. No, right now all she cared about was this snapshot in her life. She traced the shell of his ear, earning a snuffling noise in return as his feet twitched. He was still sheltering in his arm but she was pretty sure he had dozed off, hand fisted in the blanket.

Eventually, she'd wake him up and they'd go to their separate beds.

Eventually...


	15. Chapter 15

_A/N - With everything that's been going on recently, I held off on uploading this chapter. However, the extra time meant I was able to write another monster of a chapter._

_Special thank you to Adriana, Laetitia-chan, ElekTroz, XxSchlottixX, Chico, MyCrazyFangirlLife, Cathy Sullins, Dobby and Padfoot, XJudgeX, Akuma's knight, Patougv, MayaMM, and everyone else who follows and favorites._

_I hope you enjoy!_

**Chapter Fifteen - Soul Meets Body**

He wasn't in his own bed. That was the first thought Lucifer had as the last vestiges of already forgotten dreams fled. For one, the thread count was completely wrong, not to mention the cheap linen sheets beneath him were bristly as cactus compared to his silken pairs at home. Waking up in someone else's bed was hardly an abnormal occurrence for him but something about this time felt off. There were no warm bodies besides his, no feelings of satisfaction which typically followed a night of debauchery.

Wriggling, he unearthed himself from beneath the thick comforter, squinting against the watery morning light. An AC unit whirled loudly, making such a racket, he wondered how he had managed to get any sleep in the first place. He tucked his foot, which hung off the edge of the too small bed, back under the warm blankets. Twisting his head, he looked around the room blearily.

Oh right, they had spent the night in a motel.

Raising himself a few inches, he could just make out Chloe's outline in the other bed. She was bundled in blankets, back to him as she slept peacefully. Her hair was free of its typical ponytail, long strands in disarray as they flopped all over her pillow. The air from the AC unit above them caused a few loose strands to dance feebly but otherwise she was motionless.

If Chloe was still asleep, then it must be horrifically early. She was one of those loathsome 'morning people', one of her few flaws. Well, that and the whole being immune to his devilish abilities. He still hadn't found an answer to that particular phenomenon, not that he'd looked into it too hard.

He wriggled on his stomach to get a look at the cheap digital clock sat on the table between the two beds. His back tingled, a rubber band snapping against his skin in protest of stretching so early, but he ignored it.

The blinking green numbers on the clock read 6:30 am.

Well that was far too early an hour for him to even consider being awake. Pushing his face back into the lumpy pillow, he hid from the light seeping through the thin curtains. Why did all motel rooms seem to inevitably face the sunrise? It was a piss poor design choice in his opinion.

Grumbling to himself about the incompetence of humans, he willed sleep to return. For a time, he was nearly successful. A dozing haze crept over him, not enough to lull him under fully but darkening the edges of his consciousness. The void he was searching for, however, stoutly refused him access. The flaws of the room were now too obvious to ignore, dragging him back each time he almost fell into a sounder sleep. The air was so cooled, it was nearly painful for his skin, more accustomed to Hell's boiling temperatures. His blankets were scratchy, rubbing against his bare scars like kitten claws - not quite sharp enough to hurt but certainly an uncomfortable sensation all the same. And the blasted pillow!

Pressing his forehead into the monstrosity, he tried to knead out the pool ball sized lumps. He didn't remember the pillow being so intolerable last night. In fact, it had been rather soft, though firm, and warm. It had moved too, almost like breath-

The memory struck him hard, a frying pan to the back of the head. Gentle hands caressing his hair, his face. A gurgling stomach tucked beneath his head. Smaller, slender legs threaded between his own. He could recall every touch, shivers he had never experienced running though his abdomen as he bathed in an undemanding affection born from neither lust nor expectation.

He'd never meant to share anything about his family. The way Chloe had spoken about her father though, the glimmer in her eyes born from equal parts joy and sadness, had implored him to offer something in return. When speaking with Linda, he was always acutely aware of the fact it was merely her job to listen. Few humans he had met were interested in listening simply for the sake of doing so. There were always ulterior motives at work. He supposed it was only natural that creatures possessing free will would be a mite self conceited. And in Los Angeles, being self centered was very nearly its own personality, complete with expensive makeup and failed acting careers.

Needless to say, he doubted the doctor would have been interested in his personal life if he hadn't been paying her in return, remarkable he might be. The rest of him? Oh _that_ definitely had her undivided attention. Or it had at least.

So, he'd fumbled through some explanation of his upbringing and thoroughly ruined the companionable mood he and Chloe had been sharing. She should have been cross with him, he'd certainly expected it at least, as he stamped on her good memories with his own dour upbringing. No one wanted to hear about his 'daddy issues', as Maze had snidely dubbed them.

To his dismay, and no small amount of horror, Chloe had encouraged him when he faltered. She hadn't demanded more than he was willing to share, no probing questions following his every sentence, no sign she was digging deeper. She'd simply let him talk until his inclination fled.

Then, of all things, she'd _apologized_.

The sorrow which lined her face had been unmistakable, though he was unsure of the cause. Linda had said something about this during that last disastrous session. What had it been? That Chloe felt hurt _for_ him?

He still didn't quite understand the concept but in that moment it was obvious that Chloe was sympathetic towards him. Then, all reason had fled.

No one sympathized with the Devil. Not his demons, not his family, and certainly not humanity. He was the biblical scapegoat, an offering his father had served on a silver platter for humans to use as an excuse for their sins - the Devil made me do it. At least once a month, someone or other threw together a little protest outside Lux, so thoroughly disgusted by his name, they decided he needed to be run out of town. If only they knew the truth, would they dare knock at his door then? He doubted it.

The hypocrisy of it all didn't escape him. When a human's free will was threatened, wars raged. Humanity wouldn't tolerate losing their freedom. Yet they despised the Devil for daring to ask for the same. No one fought on _his_ behalf.

Turning his head enough to reveal one eye, he stared at Chloe. Did she know she was the first one to ever genuinely offer him any morsel of remorse? A large part of that was probably because she didn't believe he was the Devil but… well, he'd never lied to her had he? Surely some part of her must believe him, no doubt hidden beneath layers of logic and facts. If she cared so much while thinking he was human, would knowing the monster really change her perspective?

He snorted to himself, hiding his face back in the pillow. Of course knowing would change her. Religious or not, everyone knew the Ruler of Hell was the embodiment of evil. It would be asking far too much for her to look past that. Fortunately, her incessant need for facts and evidence meant, unless he chose to reveal his true face, she would never truly believe he was the Devil.

As unexpected as her apology had been though, what had followed bordered on miraculous.

Cuddling wasn't exactly a foreign concept to him. Some humans were grabby after sex and he'd have to wait until they fell asleep to escape to the other side of the bed. He was enough of a gentleman to not simply slink off in the middle of the night when he happened to stay over - he refused to stoop low enough to engage in a walk of shame. Besides, morning sex was always a pleasent way to start the day.

He never initiated the contact though, even with his regular visitors, and most didn't seem to mind his disinterest in playing at being a couple. Actually, many welcomed his no strings attached routine.

All that had gone out the window with Chloe.

He'd felt weird after talking about his family, like he had overshared and bothered her somehow. Even if she hadn't voiced any complaints about him speaking so freely, he had been on edge, looking for… dammit, why did he have so much trouble with this?

Whatever, he'd wanted something, some sign he hadn't horribly misread the situation and been an utter prat. Even that had been new for him. Usually he didn't give a toss one way or the other how others felt about him, Devil blaming aside. Chloe was different though. Her opinion genuinely mattered to him. He hadn't even realized how much until then, confronted with the possibility she was judging him.

When she'd first tried to pull him down beside her, he'd thought it was sex she was after. And though he may have drifted off to that particular fantasy many a time, thinking she wanted to sleep with him after he'd just metaphorically bared his soul to her had stung like a kidney punch. So, he'd done the last thing he ever thought he would do and resisted, intending to escape off to some bar where he could drown himself in low quality alcohol and pretend he had never opened his mouth.

Chloe had been persistent though and remarkably reassuring, so he'd given in, expecting a repeat of the Sadie incident. Instead, she'd settled him down and just… petted him.

The gesture had nearly been too much, filled to the brim with affection. Unconditional was the word that kept popping into his head, though he knew such a thing didn't exist. Everyone had a breaking point, where caring became too burdensome. Chloe's tolerance was, evidently, exorbitantly high, for which he was grateful. He wasn't ready to lose their friendship, especially now.

He knew he had fallen asleep on her and had a fuzzy recollection of being woken up and directed to his own bed some time later. Honestly, it wasn't altogether important. All he knew was, for the perhaps first time on Earth, and definitely Hell, he'd felt safe enough to sleep soundly entangled with someone else.

It bloody terrified him.

She could have destroyed him in that moment, even he knew that. The tightrope he'd balanced on, she'd held the other end. One lazy twitch of her hand could have sent him tumbling down to be lost to flames. She hadn't betrayed him though, instead guiding him safely into her arms.

Still, it worried him that he'd even put himself in such a position in the first place. Worse, his nerves were still singing for more. The ghost of her hand tracing his ear, rubbing along his brow, just thinking about it made his skin tingle.

He'd never felt this way before, never yearned for anything so personal. Sex, partying, alcohol, none of that was nearly this complicated. There were no feelings involved.

Plenty of feeling had been involved last night though. He couldn't name the emotions he'd experienced, the feelings transcending his limited understanding of those shadowed between anger, happiness, and sadness. Usually, not being able to articulate how he felt was merely a slight inconvenience. What need did he have to label?

Now though, he couldn't begin to understand any of what he was experiencing.

The more he thought about it all, the more agitated he became.

Reassurance, that's what he'd wanted from Chloe. He shuddered in disgust at the revelation, gritting his teeth and fisting a hand in the fabric of his trousers.

The Devil didn't need reassurance or approval or anything else of that nature. Maze's opinions didn't much matter to him and neither should Chloe's. He'd been weak last night, confused by his avalanche of conflicting emotions. That was the only explanation for his behavior.

His mouth soured as he remembered how he'd kneeled before her, silently begging for her to ease his insecurities like a dog waiting for some modicum of acknowledgement. She had indulged him, petting him like the pathetic whelp he was. And worst of all, he'd bloody enjoyed every moment of it.

Maze had been calling him soft for months. He hadn't believed it. Sure, he had lost some of the intensity he carried around in Hell but that was the whole point of retiring. No more making demons into examples through violent slaughter. No more torturing souls because it was the only way he could feel anything besides that endless sucking void of numbed despair. No more waiting to be betrayed or trapped or deceived by his hellish legions.

Becoming soft though? No, that wouldn't do. He was still an angel, albeit a disgraced one. Divinity and hellfire coursed through him in equal measures. Not a force on Earth was capable of causing him serious harm - though he still had his doubts about nuclear bombs.

The tingling in his back had become steady throbs, a squeezing just bordering on painful. Aching muscles did nothing to ease his disquiet. If anything, the unwelcome addition was stirring him into a mess of repressed frustration.

He could not bear to remain in such a vulnerable position as laying prostrate for a moment longer. Rising on his elbows, he went to roll out of bed and find his flask for a little self medication before he ended up breaking something.

He wasn't expecting the fiery burn which tore through his back, every muscle seizing so forcefully, he jerked hard enough to cause the headboard to smack against the wall.

Choking on a moan, he let his arm give out and drop him back onto the sheets. The ache from yesterday had amplified a hundred fold. Lying imobile did nothing to ease the bone deep throbs like it usually would. Instead, the pain compounded, a violent squeezing and pulling as tattered flight muscles screamed in agony.

He writhed, pressing into the mattress in a fruitless attempt to escape. His body wasn't cooperating though, smaller shoots of pain driving through both sets of shoulder blades and down his spine, even his toes flexing hard enough he feared for the tendons in his feet.

"Lucifer!"

Hands, gentle but insistent, were on his bare back. His very skin was burning though and he bucked hard, dislodging the cold hands. They retreated, only to resettle higher, fingers wrapping around his shoulders.

He went completely boneless, breathing fast and shallow against the punishing waves sparking from the center of his being.

"Lucifer, are you okay? What happened?" Chloe's voice was tight but her touch remained feather light as she rubbed his shoulders.

He didn't bother answering, instead focusing on the way his body felt like it was strung up on a livewire. Adrenaline was coursing through him, blood rushing in his ears. That sense he'd had yesterday that something was wrong? Now it was a wailing tornado siren.

Blindly, he reached out for the nightstand, smacking his hand against the sharp corner in his blind haste.

"Woah, easy." One of Chloe's hands left his back, only to grab his wrist. "Stop flailing."

He growled, just about the only sound he was capable of making. Strangled groans were lodged in his throat and he knew opening his mouth would release them.

He _wasn't _weak.

Tearing his wrist free from Chloe, he dragged himself towards the edge of the bed, aiming for the motel phone.

"Lucifer, stop!" Chloe's tone crept upward toward panicked. "I need you to tell me what's wrong! Is it your back?"

Ignoring her, he fumbled for the phone. His hand was shaking uncontrollably and he knocked both the lamp and digital clock to the floor before capturing his target. Vision swimming, he dialed by touch, dragging the phone to his face. Chloe was still talking, her hands back on his shoulders as she tried vainly to restrain him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, listening to the line ring.

Once.

Twice.

The third ring cut off as someone finally answered. "Whoever the fuck this is, this better be fucking important!"

"Maze," he gasped. Or at least, he hoped that was what he'd said. His tongue wasn't cooperating, nor for the matter, was anything else. He couldn't stop shaking.

"Lucifer? Is that you? What the hell's going on?" The hostility was dropped immediately.

"Wings."

"What are you talking about? Where are you?"

"Wings… hurts." He really couldn't make this any clearer. One syllable words were his limit. Dimly, he was aware of Chloe leaning over him, her hands searching his body. "Hurts," he repeated.

"Lucifer, I don't-" And that was all he heard before the phone was wrenched away from him.

"Maze? This is Chloe. I'm here with Lucifer. Something's wrong, he's in a lot of pain."

He needed that phone back! Something was grievously wrong with his wings, he was certain of it now.

Attempting to roll over, he was halted when Chloe unceremoniously sat astride his waist, using her full weight to pin him face down.

"Lucifer, I _need _you to stop moving. What, Maze? No, no he's freaking out. I'm afraid he's going to hurt himself."

In any other circumstance, he could have easily thrown Chloe off with his superior strength. Summoning enough force was, at the moment, impossible for him however. Sinking back into the bed, he stopped fighting, focusing on forcing air into his lungs with harsh, shallow gulps.

Chloe was still on the phone, or he thought she was at least. Every nerve from his neck to his hips was firing wildly. Vaguely, he noticed that her weight was helping actually. Sitting as she was, so low on his back, she was unknowingly stretching the muscles around his spine. They still burned plenty but the stabbing edge dulled. Or maybe he was just becoming accustomed to the pain.

His mind narrowed in, blocking out the outside world. At some point, Chloe climbed off him but he didn't move, focusing on each individual throb and following the painful waves as they traveled from muscle to muscle.

She returned, settling something across his scars. He whined in opposition, still sensitive skin feeling stripped raw. Chloe shushed him in return, the mattress dipping as she sat. After several minutes, she removed whatever she'd placed on his back, only to repeat the process a moment later. A warm washcloth, he realized.

He wanted to tell her to stop, that his high running temperature meant her makeshift hot compress was useless, but his pain was, slowly and steadily, settling into something more manageable. It still hurt like hell - oh a pun, he must be getting better then - but he would no longer consider it debilitating.

When Chloe went to switch the cloth for the fourth time, he chanced raising his head. The room was much lighter than before, the strong yellow of the sunrise turned opaque. His eyes smarted from how tightly they'd been closed, tears reflexively welling. He blinked them away, not wanting Chloe to see.

The sink was running in the bathroom and he used this brief moment to awkwardly maneuver himself, without being scrutinized, until he was sitting upright. He wasn't near ready to chance standing but sitting was a definite improvement. It gave the illusion he was put together at least. The tap shut off and Chloe reappeared with a newly wrung out cloth.

"Oh," she said upon seeing his change in position. "Maybe you should lie back down."

"I'm fine," he answered automatically, holding his upper body still as possible. Just the small act of breathing hurt but at least he was coherent again.

Chloe's lips tightened. "I'm just curious, what exactly is your definition of fine? Because," she sat beside him hard enough to bounce the mattress and he hissed as the motion sent another firecracker up his spine, "thirty minutes ago you could hardly speak."

"It's relative, Detective," he deflected.

"Riiiight." She was glowering at him now. "Let's say you were hit by a car and only broke, oh, I dunno, three of your limbs. Would that still constitute, to you, as 'being fine'?"

He sensed the landmine, though he wasn't sure how to avoid stepping on it. His little ordeal had left him exhausted despite the early hour they'd retired last night, his typical wit lacking. "It depends. Which three limbs did I break in this hypothetical situation?"

Chloe did not appreciate his humor. "Lucifer, I am so not kidding around right now. You were shaking so bad I thought you were having a _seizure_!"

"Yes well, it's over now isn't it? Mostly," he amended with a wince as she bounced the mattress again pointedly.

"Please tell me it's not usually like this."

He shook his head. "No. This was new."

"Then why," she trailed off, eyes widening. "Was it the bed? Is that why you wanted to stay somewhere nicer? You should've said something!"

"No, no it wasn't the bed." He hurried to reassure her, not liking the guilt he saw written clearly across her face. "It was my wings."

"Your wings." She glanced towards his back.

"They're not there anymore, remember?"

Chloe hesitated, as she often did whenever he brought up anything related to his true nature. She didn't like indulging him, even jokingly, which he found amusing in its own way, but by Dad did it make it harder to have these kinds of conversations.

"So it's just your scars that hurt?" She sidestepped the wing issue entirely.

"Oh, you misunderstand me. It's not exactly my back that hurts, moreso my flight muscles." Though the aching had not let up much, he still managed to smile at Chloe's gobsmacked look.

"Lucifer, people don't have… flight muscles."

"And as I've told you nearly every day since we've met, I'm the Devil."

Chloe frowned, but as usual, did not comment. Instead, she forged on like he'd never said anything. "I don't think any pharmacies are opened this early but I can go and get you painkillers or something later if you need them."

"Thank you for the offer but Tylenol's not going to work, I'm afraid. I'll just have a hot shower and everything should sort itself out."

She bit her lip. "And if that doesn't work? Lucifer, you're barely breathing. I _know_ you're still in pain."

He would've waved off her concern but that would require moving his arms, which was probably not in his best interest at the moment, so instead he sniffed disbelievingly.

She scowled at him. "Okay, you know what? We're redefining what 'fine' means."

"You can't give a word a new definition," he protested.

"Why not?" She challenged and there was no mistaking that no nonsense look in her eyes. "You do it all the time. Lucifer, you're literally the only person on this planet who thinks having three broken limbs is still 'fine'. You said the same thing when your brother _broke your rib_!"

"I don't see the problem." What did his injuries matter, truly? Even if he died, and he still wasn't sure that was possible even with his sporadic invulnerability, his Pentacostal coin would get him back to Earth in a matter of minutes.

"Really? Because I do. What if you got hurt and gave me that 'I'm fine' bullshit, I believed you, and then you had to be hospitalized because you are not a doctor and therefore do not have the knowledge to self diagnose yourself?" Her hands gripped her knees hard, creating even more wrinkles in the jeans she'd slept in. "Our job is dangerous and we need to be on the same page when it comes to injuries. Like today, what if we go to see this woman and she shoots at us? Are you well enough to duck a bullet and find cover?"

"So what do you suggest then?" He asked, dodging the question. Honestly, he was confident he could drop and avoid a gunshot but get back up again? That may be a little beyond him at the moment. Not that Chloe would ever hear him admit that.

"Injuries that can be classified as fine are non-life threatening and do not require stitches, restrict movement, or cause more than the recommended amount of blood loss - which is none by the way. That includes paper cuts, stubbed toes, bug bites, and razor nicks," she counted off on her fingers. "Seriously, if it's not one of those, I want to know about it."

He turned that over in his head. Paper could cut humans? Why did they insist on using it then? Perhaps now was not the best time to ask though. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Chloe was angry at him. Which was preposterous, he'd hardly done anything more than wake up!

"Should I call you every time I find a hangnail?" He asked, miffed by the entire conversation. Wingless he might be, he was still an archangel in all but name. He didn't need looking after. This whole thing was pointless.

Unless… did Chloe think he needed to be coddled? The past twenty-four hours hadn't done his ego any favors and she had been witness to it all.

The walls came up as he hardened himself. He wasn't weak or soft or needed to be looked after. Last night had been an anomaly, that was all.

"Don't be like that," she said flatly. "I'm worried about you."

"I don't need you to be."

The remark was instinctive, his usual response when Maze became too protective and he needed to re-establish his superiority. It never seemed to hurt his little demon, though he wasn't sure if she was capable of that particular emotion. Crass words were how they communicated after all and most of the time they found it almost funny.

Chloe wasn't laughing. Nor did she look angry anymore. Instead, her face had fallen into an expression he could not quite interpret. She looked almost sad, if not for the knowing glint in her eyes. He found it off putting.

"No you don't, do you." Though it was phrased as such, it very clearly wasn't a question.

Lucifer cocked his head. "Yes, well, glad we cleared that up." At least, he thought so. She hadn't contradicted him.

He studied her from the corner of his eye, trying to glean what she was feeling. Reading people was something he prided himself on. Every twitch of the lips, every fluttering eyelash, he could read it as all easily as Hebrew. Lies and desires may well be tattooed on the flesh for him to peruse and taste.

Something was evidently wrong with Chloe's facial features, beautiful they may be, for her to be such a mystery to him. Botox perhaps? She'd never struck him at the type but one never knew.

While he scrutinized her, Chloe's gaze drifted off somewhere across the room. Her brow puckered that way it did when she was going over evidence, connections stitching themselves together. What those connections were, he had no idea.

She snapped to, locking him with an intense gaze. "Life's not just about what you do and don't need, Lucifer. It's about wants too."

His lips parted, torn between laughing and snorting. Was she taking the piss? His entire life was driven by every wanton want which crossed his mind. He felt like dinner in France? Best buy a private jet. Maze wanted a sharp new toy? He had it smuggled in. A new movie piqued his interest? Might as well buy out the entire theater for himself and a chosen few.

"Have you forgotten who you're talking to?" he chuckled. "Really Detective, I assure you, most things I want, I get."

"Material things yes but I'm not talking about whatever you've got in your wine cellar or your closet." She spun to face him, pulling her feet up on the bed. "There's a lot of things people can live without, even if it's not healthy. Friendship. Love. Support. I do believe it when you say you don't need me to care about you. You're the most independent person I've ever met. But just because you _can_ live without those things, doesn't mean you _have_ to."

Love? Support? She was right, he didn't need those things. Nor did he particularly want them either. He didn't want to have this conversation. If not for his back, he'd already have gone out to smoke or retreat for a shower. He picked at the bedspread, wishing desperately for something with which to occupy his hands.

Chloe gave him a minute to add something but when he resolutely remained silent, she sighed. "Is this about last night? Did I overstep?"

"I - I don't know." Frustration laced his words, his tumultuous thoughts from before returning full force. He was utterly torn. His very essence was pulled apart, only a few sagging threads keeping him together, as mind and soul waged war on one another.

"Then I'm sorry."

Again with the apologies.

"Don't be, that's not what I meant." What did he mean? He didn't even know. How could he explain this to her when he himself didn't understand?

"I don't-"

"No one's ever done that before, okay?" The admission was a rock in his gut. "And… bloody hell… I just _don't know_."

Bracing a hand against the headboard, he hauled himself to his feet. The edges of his vision grew fuzzy, pain cascading from his back to his feet, but he refused to so much as flinch.

Chloe was beside him in an instant, hands hovering near his arm. "Shit, Lucifer, what are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower. We still have a suspect to interrogate."

No more ruminating. He shoved everything that had happened last night, the apologies and gentle words, into that battered tin box deep in his mind with all those other memories he didn't want. Memories of creating the stars. Of playing with siblings under the once indulging gaze of their Father. Of an endless tumble through a vast void as he fell and screamed and screamed -

He looked around the room, spying his shirt and jacket draped on a chair. Walking over gingerly, he collected his clothes and his overnight bag. Thankfully, he had left the bag on the dresser. There was no way he could've bent down and gotten it off the floor.

The whole time, Chloe stood behind him, arms crossed as she worried at her lip. He refused to look in her direction, patting down his jacket pockets as he searched for his flask.

"Could you call Maze for me?" He pulled the flask out of the inner jacket pocket, unscrewing the top and taking a massive swallow. "Tell her I want my shipping container checked. She'll know what that means."

"Oh, um, yeah. Sure."

Her voice warbled with uncertainly and he stomped out the urge to look at her. Last night had been an anomaly, not the first of his immeasurable life and certainly not the last. Chloe may want to talk about it but he had other things to put his energy towards. Things that actually mattered.

He nodded, replacing his flask. "Thank you." Hobbling to the cramped bathroom, he shut the door without a backwards glance.

The room was hardly larger than a closet, the sink wedged tightly in the corner. Setting his bag on the vanity, he unpacked a new shirt, socks, and hair products. He would have to wear yesterday's suit - there was no practical way to pack one without creating creases - but he put his foot down at wearing the same shirt two days in a row.

Undressing slowly, he wondered if he would have time to iron his trousers. The wrinkles caused by sleeping in them were ruining the cut. Maybe if he hung them up, the heat from the shower would steam the fabric. As he looked for a viable place, he kept an ear trained on the room beyond. Chloe's voice reached him. Though he couldn't make out any individual words, he knew her soft tone, undercut as it usually was by an authoritative edge. Though, last night that edge had been lost to a quieter cadence.

He jerked his head as if he could shake off the memories like water. They clung to him, barbs digging into his brain and fiercely holding on.

Control, he always had it. Every step, every interaction, they happened on his terms alone. Spontaneous things occurred, certainly, but his gift meant he could redirect any conversation, drag out those delicious hidden desires and then decide how to proceed. He wasn't a chess piece, he was the _chessmaster_. Humans only ever learned what he allowed them to see of himself. In the meantime, he could strip them down to their most fundamental level, discover what lit their very souls. Vulnerability simply wasn't a word in his vocabulary.

He'd been the victim once, his body bound and broken by the hands of others, and it would never happen again. From the moment he'd risen from the Lake of Fire, reborn and asserted a king, he had ceased to be anyone's plaything.

Now, he found himself in the reverse situation. None of his abilities worked on Chloe and that gave her the control. Last night, he'd been the vulnerable one, submitting himself to her in a way he'd never known a being could. He'd felt naked, and not in a good way, like she was seeing right through his persona, scraping at that which lay below.

He could not allow it to happen again.

Without an audience, he didn't fake his lameness, movements jerky as he kicked off his trousers, remembering a moment too late that he couldn't reach the floor. Using his foot, he managed to pick up the fabric with his toes and drop it on the closed toilet seat. From there, he did an odd little squat to pick them up. A hook was on the back of the door and he hung the trousers by the belt still in the loops.

Stepping towards the shower tub combo, he fiddled around with the showerhead settings. A spurt of ice cold water sputtered out and he sharply withdrew his hand, waiting for the temperature to warm before daring to step inside.

Returning to where he'd left his overnight bag, he pulled out his own traveler's size shampoo and conditioner bottles as well as a bar of soap. Collecting these, he returned to the shower.

He checked the water temperature again, this time satisfied, and climbed over the edge of the bath with decidedly ungraceful movements. Stepping into the spray, he closed his eyes and let the heat seep into him. His scars burned but were quickly soothed as he rested his forehead against the tiled wall. It took longer for the heat to penetrate his skin and reach the damage below. He turned the temperature up as far as it would go, the metal knob squealing. The air grew thick and heavy, droplets collecting on the tiled walls.

Still, he found the temperature unsatisfactory. His penthouse shower ran much hotter than this roach motel. It was larger too, he thought sourly, as he turned and smacked his elbow against the wall, only to stub his toe as he shuffled sideways.

And now his invulnerability was on the fritz again! Wiggling his stinging toe, he lathered his hair liberally with shampoo. His sporadic vulnerability issues had been very low on his list of concerns, to the constant ire of Maze. He would have to make it more of a priority though because he was tired of accumulating so many injuries. His back already provided him with plenty of that, thank you very much. And now that he'd learned that paper could cut flesh… what other traps did humans leave lying around? Were toasters dangerous? What about staplers?

As he weighed the unrecognized dangers lurking in his penthouse, he rinsed his hair. Rivets of froth ran down his face, tickling behind his ears. Running a hand through his hair, he tugged at a few knots. Thank Dad he had brought his hair products, otherwise he'd have to deal with those poncy curls on top of everything else.

The fire lighting up his flight muscles had smoldered down to a hard nugget of pain lodged somewhere deep in his core. There was nothing he could do for it at the moment but at least it was a major improvement. When they returned to Los Angeles, he would soak in the hottub for a bit. He could invite up a few early club goers, make a party out of it. A wet, _naked_ party-

His thoughts were torn away from the image of supple flesh as his eyes began to sting. Now, it was true he hadn't been sleeping around as much these past few weeks, but that hardly constituted _tears_ of all things. Swiping at his eyes, he was alarmed as the stinging only increased. Crying wasn't this painful.

Rubbing harder, he tried to identify when he'd last felt such an odd burning sensation. Oh right, when he'd gotten soap in his bullet graze. He hadn't even touched the soap though. All he'd done was shampoo his hair. Unless…

Shampoo could hurt humans too? What the fuck was wrong with his father's creations? Were they all masochists?

Eyes slitted, he thrusted the shower curtain aside, searching blindly for a towel. The first bit of fabric he came into contact with, he drew back into the shower, knocking over his conditioner bottle in the process.

Okay, he was officially over new experiences. Period. He'd had his fill of pain and emotions. The novelty was long gone. He wanted his invulnerability back, stat.

The burning receded as he rubbed furiously, though his eyes remained raw. At least the towel was soft, he hadn't expected that in such a lowly place. Looking down to check the brand, he noticed the fabric in his hands was blue. He frowned to himself. If he wasn't mistaken - and was he ever? - the motel towels were white. Stomach dropping, his unballed the soaked fabric, revealing his formerly clean shirt.

Bollocks.

As he watched his shirt grow dark and heavy from the shower spray, a boiling anger churned in his gut.

The last twenty four hours had not gone in his favor at all. Hand holding. Cuddles. Sharing family drama like a bloody teenage girl at a sleepover. And now his shirt was ruined.

He wanted control. He _demanded_ it of this warped little universe his father had created. His family could inflict their will all they bloody well pleased but when it came to him, the so called disgraced angel who'd learned to wield both the fire and divinity, he chose his own path.

Chloe was wrong. He had everything he'd ever wanted at his fingertips.

He had just tossed his shirt onto the bathroom floor when there was a hesitant knock on the door.

"Detective?" he called, sticking his head out of the shower even as his anger evaporated.

The door crept open a few inches but Chloe did not come into the room. "Are you okay? I heard banging."

"I dropped the conditioner."

"Oh. Right. You're not… are you still hurting?" She labored over each word, as if she were handing picking the ripest apples from the tree.

He hated when humans did that.

"No. The shower's just a bit cramped. Though," he smirked, "I reckon two people could still fit."

Teasing. That was why everything was so off balanced. Their usual relationship was him teasing her relentlessly and Chloe rolling her eyes while pretending to be annoyed at his exquisite charms. He should've done that last night the moment she'd tried to get him to lie down with her. One little innuendo and she would've kicked him out of the bed and saved both of them from the embarrassment of this morning.

"In your dreams."

"Oh, but I already do dream about it," he purred. "Of course, I've never imagined us copulating in such a confined space. It would require a fair bit of acrobatics and my own flexibility may not cut it, remarkable as that is." He dropped his voice an octave. "What say you, Detective? Have you ever done yoga?"

The door slammed shut, rattling the mirror over the vanity. He chuckled to himself, imagining the blush she was no doubt sporting. He finished his shower in much higher spirits than before, not even the twinge of pain caused from bending over to retrieve the conditioner bottle able to dampen his spirits.

He redressed in his old clothes, annoyed to find his trousers were still horribly wrinkled. Between that and yesterday's shirt, he was looking decidedly unkempt. To offset the abysmal state of his clothes, he put extra care into his hair and eyeliner. The effect wasn't quite up to his usual standard but unless there was a tailor in Fresno who did same day alterations, it would have to do.

Repacking his overnight bag, he walked into the main room. Chloe was sitting on a chair by the window, curtains drawn back as she read her casefile. It wasn't an atypical scene for the Detective, aside from the fact she was reading the file upside down.

"I think they're being metaphorical when they say to look at the case from a different angle," he noted, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on his shoes.

Her eyes snapped up. "What?"

"Your file," he gestured. "It's the wrong way up."

"No it's no - oh." She flipped the manila file the other way. "I was just looking at some of the crime scene photos," she said defensively.

"The ones that haven't been developed yet?"

"How would you know?" she asked waspishly.

He shrugged, standing again. "Because we left before that miserable fellow with the camera returned. He was the one Daniel was going to catch a ride with." A thought struck him. "I didn't frazzle your brain earlier did I? Perhaps it was all too much, first seeing me shirtless and then my offer to share the shower."

"I hate to break it to you buddy, but a Greek statue you are not." She closed the file, shoving it back into her briefcase.

"Of course I'm not! The Greeks loved giving their heroes micro penises and I assure you, my-" he was cut off as a pillow smacked him in the face.

"No! It's nine in the morning and I haven't had my coffee. We are not talking about _that_. It's too early."

He held the pillow loosely in his hands. "So, we'll finish this discussion later?"

He decided to interpret the next pillow that hit him as a definite maybe.

* * *

After eating a breakfast of vending machine crisps and cookies, they checked out of the motel and headed back to the Moore residence. Chloe had refused to let their conversations drift away from their current case, a punishment no doubt. What else was it supposed to be when rehashing details was so boring?

She had called Maze at least, which eased Lucifer's worry considerably. His demon would have everything cleared up by the time he returned to Los Angeles. And just in time too. His back had begun to hurt once he'd gotten in the car. It wasn't the dizzying fire from before but he wasn't looking forward to the four hour ride home.

They pulled into the same spot as yesterday, just across the street from the lopsided house. Precious little was different. The same overflowing garbage cans slumped besides crooked chain link fences. There was a hopeless feel about the whole place, the poverty thick in the air like the scent of roadkill on a July day. Even Chloe seemed to be affected, her eyes darting around. Still, she forged ahead with her usual confidence, striding up to the front door and rapping loudly.

He followed, detouring slightly to get a look through the front window. Unlike last night, there was a light on inside the house, a vague shape moving around.

"Lucifer, stop that," Chloe hissed from the stoop.

"Someone's home." He climbed up beside her, sandwiching them together on the small bit of concrete.

"I know, there's a car in the driveway." She rolled her eyes.

Was there? He leaned back and, sure enough, there sat the saddest little Honda he'd ever seen. Did it even count as a car if it was mostly rust?

His quandaries were cut short as the door opened a few inches, a mistrustful eye glaring out.

"Who are you?" the nasty eye asked.

"I'm Detective Chloe Decker with the LAPD and this is my partner. We're looking for a Lisa Moore."

The door opened a few inches more, exposing a tiny, angry woman. "You're out of your jurisdiction."

"Ma'am, we're not here to cause trouble. We just have a few-" The door slammed shut. "Great." She threw her hands up. "Thanks for your time."

"Pity. Can I kick the door in now?"

She glared at him. "In what universe would I give you permission to break into the home of someone we want to interview?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right." He nodded thoughtfully before brightening. "Or _you_ could break down the door. You have the badge."

She facepalmed. "If you'd bothered to read those books on procedure I'd gotten for you, you'd know that counts as excessive force."

"Well, our suspect is being excessively rude. Isn't there a sub clause or something for special circumstances?"

"How is this situation special?" she demanded.

He shrugged, hands tucked in his pockets. "She's being awfully disrespectful towards you. Not that I can blame her fully. I still think your little organization is corrupt, but you're alright. You've only broken the law, what, three times in my presence? That surely must be a better record than Daniel."

Oh lovely, she was doing the fish impression again, gaping at him like a pet store guppy.

"Lucifer, we cannot break in just because she slammed the door on us." She stressed every word. "Just… just knock again, please."

He did so, rapping smartly, and waited. After several moments, the door opened again.

"I thought I told you-" the old woman was cut off as Lucifer interjected himself between her and Chloe.

"I apologize for my partner Mrs…"

"Moore," she breathed, eyes glazing over slightly as she got a good look at him, eyes sliding down his form. "Lisa Moore."

He smiled. "Charmed, Mrs. Moore. Lucifer Morningstar." He held out his hand, which she eagerly shook. "I can see you're a very busy woman but my partner dragged me all the way here and she has a few questions she wants to ask. Now, you would be doing me a huge favor if you'd humor her. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Oh you poor darling." She shot Chloe a venomous look. "You said you were from Los Angeles? That's at least four hours away. I hope traffic wasn't terrible." She grabbed his sleeve to tug him inside.

He grinned at Chloe over his shoulder as he allowed himself to be led. Chloe followed, eye twitching, and narrowly avoiding being shut outside as Lisa hip checked the door closed.

"I must apologize for my inhospitality. I had to spend the night at my sister's house again because her cancer is back…"

Lucifer half listened to the ramblings, while looking around curiously. The three of them were standing in a cramped foyer. On either side were doorways through which he caught sight of beaten furniture and smoke stained walls. There was an abundance of plants, most of which were caught somewhere between dead and dying. Dust danced in the minimal natural light, settling across the threadbare carpet of unknown color. It looked a bit like when someone at Lux had a bit too much to drink.

"... and then Judy skipped church for that boy toy she has hanging around and thinks none of us know about." Lisa went to take a breath.

"Mrs. Moore," Chloe seized her chance. "Is there someplace we can sit and talk?"

"Detective, don't interrupt! Though, now that my partner has mentioned it, perhaps we should all take a seat." Lucifer placed a hand on the elderly woman's shoulder, gesturing for her to lead the way. "And tell me more about this Judy. She sounds positively scandalous."

"Oh she is! She thinks just because she volunteers at the soup kitchen that atones for all her lovers." She ambled through the door to the left, entering a small sitting room stuffed with over sized couches and armchairs. "Please, take a seat. Would you like anything?"

"Do you have - ow." He jerked away as Chloe elbowed him in the ribs. "Detective?"

"We don't want anything, thank you," she said firmly, giving him _the look._

Oh what, now it was inappropriate to accept coffee from a suspect? Annoyed, he collapsed onto the sofa, Chloe following suit.

Lisa looked between them. "Are you quite sure I can't get you anything?" Though she was facing both of them, it was obvious she was only addressing Lucifer.

He shot Chloe a wary look. "If it isn't any trouble, I think my partner and I could use a cuppa." At both women's confused looks, he shook his head slightly. "Tea, I meant. And biscuits? Do you have any of those?"

Despite Chloe's protests, the woman bustled off to the sectioned off kitchen to retrieve their requested drink.

"Really?" she said, exasperated.

He shrugged. "Well, I don't think you should have any coffee. You're a bit high strung today."

She sputtered. "I'm not high strung. And I don't care about the tea. We're here to possibly arrest this woman and you're asking for food?"

"She offered!" he protested. "It would've been rude to decline."

"A moment ago, she was the rude one," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"You're just mad she likes me more. Besides, biscuits."

"You're ridiculous." Despite her reprimand, the corners of her lips ticked upwards into a smile.

Lucifer felt her own mouth twitch to mirror the expression and he scratched behind his ear. Balance had, for the time being at least, been restored. This was good though. Every time Chloe became too touchy feely, he'd just tease her again and everything would settle. That pity and fondness from last night was gone. He ignored the way his stomach dropped at the loss, the stirring of the memory of her hand in his hair.

No. All that was over. He liked their friendship just the way it was.

Lisa returned with a silver serving tray holding several china cups. He accepted one of the tea cups gladly, ignoring Chloe's warning looks as he took a massive swallow. Honestly, if the woman was going to poison the food, she certainly wasn't going to poison _him_.

"Mrs. Moore, we're here about a few threats you made towards one of the lawyer's in your son's trial."

The woman tensed immediately, setting her own cup down. "That issue has been dealt with already."

"We're here because that same lawyer's daughter was found murdered yesterday."

There was a moment of delicate silence in which all three parties studied one another.

"I don't know why you think that would have anything to do with me," Lisa said carefully.

"We came by last night but no one was home. Do you have an alibi for yesterday morning?"

"Detective, she already told you she was with her sister," Lucifer interjected. "She wasn't lying. I would've known."

"He's right, I was with my sister. She lives just outside the city limits. I stay with her four days a week now that I'm on my own. You're more than welcome to speak with her."

Chloe was working her jaw, a muscle jumping. Uh oh, he was in trouble again.

"We'll be doing that. Even if you had nothing to do with it, you're the only individual so far with a motive."

"Detective," Lisa folded her hands together, eyes sorrowful. "I know what it's like to lose a child, even temporarily. As much as it hurts, my son will be out of prison in ten years. But this woman, she's lost her daughter forever. I could never do that to another parent, never steal their child."

Chloe nodded but Lucifer knew she was frustrated. A declaration such as that was moving but hardly exonerated someone of guilt.

Leaning forwards, he placed his elbows on his knees. "Mrs. Moore, I'm just a bit curious." She looked to him, enthralled in his gaze like a robin lost in the eyes of a snake. "I'm sure there's all sorts of things you're not telling us. Your son was a high ranking gang member, not a low level dealer who got in over his head. So, forgive me for wondering, what secrets are you still hiding. What is it you desire?"

He felt it, the thrumming of his own blood as she fell under his mojo. The air grew thicker, a silent push forwards.

"I want," she hesitated. "I want to hug my son again."

The heaviness receded in a rush, leaving Lisa looking at him in confusion, and Chloe sighing.

"Is there anyone else you can think of who might have had a bad enough grudge against Hong Ying to want to kill her daughter?"

As was often the case after Lucifer's mojo was enacted, suspects continued their sharing mood. "I - well, yes. There was one boy, I don't remember his name, he died in the state prison in a riot only three months after the sentencing."

"He was tried with your son?" Chloe asked, making a note in her pad.

"Yes. They were all tried together. He was… young, younger than the others. Maybe sixteen? But that lawyer, she wanted them all tried as adults and the state agreed."

"Thank you for your time," Chloe said, standing. "We'll be in contact if we have any more questions.

They bid farewell, Lucifer pausing long enough to pocket a few cookies for himself, and returned to their cruiser.

"This was such a waste of time," Chloe complained the moment the car doors closed. She slapped her hand against the steering wheel. "I hope Dan's having better luck."

"Well, we at least narrowed down our list of suspects, marginal it might've been."

"Yeah but we didn't have to come all the way out here," she sighed, putting the car in drive and pulling out. "I just had a feeling about this one y'know? Everything seemed perfect."

"Things seldom are in this world. Just think of Eden. The so-called perfect garden wasn't so perfect in the end was it? Besides," he fished out one of his cookies, "you were being thorough. It's what makes you an excellent detective, boring as it might be sometimes"

She glanced over at him. "You know, sometimes you're the most supportive person when it comes to my job."

His brow furrowed. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No no, it's just… different."

There was more she wanted to say, he could read it in the way her lips parted, throat swallowing away words before they could ever come to fruition.

"A good different?" It was the same question she'd asked him at the beach two days ago.

She laughed. "Yeah, it's a good different. You know, I'm glad we went on this trip, even if we didn't catch our bad guy. I had fun."

"Of course. The Devil and fun are synonymous. Though I could've done without the events of this morning."

His remark sobered Chloe. "Your back, does it really not hurt anymore?"

He hesitated a heartbeat too long. "It does hurt. Not like before though. So long as we avoid potholes, I should be fine."

"And you'll let me know if you're not?" she questioned.

"Yes Detective, I promise."

He had no trouble making the promise. His back hardly hurt and while the ride home may be uncomfortable, he was sure he would pull through. It was only four hours after all. How long was that really when compared to his life? He could do this.

By the end of the first hour, he was reconsidering his prior assessment. The police cruiser was not nearly as smooth as his convertible. Every crack in the pavement traveled through the seat and up his spine. He refused to fidget, not wanting to alarm Chloe.

Deep down, it still rankled him a bit that he'd needed help in the first place. Maze was different, that was her job. But Chloe, she did it out of what? The goodness of her soul?

So he held his silence, reaching into the back seat every so often under the pretense of collecting snacks when in actuality he was giving himself a chance to stretch. He felt a bit bad about deceiving Chloe but he hadn't broken his promise. Besides, she must be tired of having to help him.

Hour two was even more grueling. Everything was still so tender from earlier, like a new scab being ripped off again and revealing the barely healed skin below. Still he persisted, playing with the radio to distract himself.

In the end, he managed to make it to nearly the three hour mark before he admitted defeat.

"Detective, could you pull over soon?" He hated himself for giving in but the Devil never broke a promise. That was the only reason he was giving in.

He wasn't weak.

"We're nearly home, can't you…" she trailed off, understanding what his pride wouldn't allow for him to voice aloud. "Yeah, I'll pull off at the next exit."

Traffic had been blessedly light and within twenty minutes, they were parked at a nearly deserted gas station. Lucifer was out of the car before it had fully stopped, shrugging off his jacket as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt. He began to pace in a lopsided circle around the car, Chloe watching him from where she leaned against the driver's side door.

"You promised to let me know if you started hurting again." The accusation was greatly diminished by her soft expression.

"I'm just stiff." Which was, okay, maybe he was stretching the truth a bit but surely sitting in the cramped car had done him no favors.

At first, walking around seemed to help. However, the initial relief was quick to wear off and soon he found himself lying in the backseat of the car, long legs sticking out. Chloe kneeled backwards in the front seat to face him, waving a hand in front of his face.

"Please just take the Advil, Lucifer. You'll feel better." She poked at the corner of his mouth and he turned his head away.

"It won't help," he said mulishly.

She sighed, rubbing hard at her face with her free hand. "This is the best I can do without a prescription. You're lucky there was even a Rite Aid nearby where I could buy this for you."

He refused to budge. "I don't need it."

"Like hell you don't," she muttered. "You're being a child."

"I heard that."

"Good."

A few minutes passed, Lucifer focusing on the faint breeze tickling his face while Chloe fumbled around in the front seat. Why was this happening to him?

"Can I borrow your phone? I need to check on Maze," he asked.

Whatever issue there was with his wings had not been rectified and now he was concerned. Maze valued his wings more than he did and if anything had befallen them… he just hoped the bloodbath wouldn't be too extensive.

"That depends, will you take the Advil?" Chloe shot back.

"Are you making a deal with the Devil?" He couldn't help but tease.

Her expression darkened. "I guess I have no choice because, you know what? You really, really suck at self care."

"It's not entirely my fault you know. Up until a few months ago, I was invulnerable. This whole thing is new. I didn't even know shampoo was dangerous!"

"That's because it's not. Now, take these." She shoved the pills under his nose and he propped himself up a few inches to dry swallow them.

Wordlessly, she handed over her phone and he dialed Maze. The call immediately went to voicemail so he tried again, to no avail. Next, he tried Lux, but only got one of the bartenders who said they hadn't seen the demon.

"I guess she's busy then." He handed the phone back and laid down again.

"Is this about the shipping container?" Chloe asked. "I told Maze to call me if she needed to get in contact with you."

"I fear something's amiss with my container, yes." He stared at the car ceiling listlessly. What if someone had stolen it? Would they find the secret compartment?

"What's in it? I mean, you don't even have a lock on your penthouse elevator so it must be important."

"Russian dolls." he said tiredly.

If his wings were found and divinity was unleashed in the city, the devastation would be catastrophic. Humans had no way to cope with seeing even a feather, nevermind the bloody wings themselves. They'd kill one another just to get a glimpse, an addict chasing down a high that could never be reached.

Chloe poked his shoulder gently. "Very funny. I thought you didn't lie?"

"I don't. There's really Russian dolls in the container, amongst other things."

"And those other things are?" Her face clouded. "Oh shit, it's not drugs is it? Or contraband?"

"Why do you always jump to the worst conclusions? Why would I store drugs in a shipping container of all places?" he asked, exasperated. "That many kilos of heroin, even I can't fathom what that'd cost."

"You use heroin?"

"Detective, what's with the twenty questions routine?" He sat up, leaning against the car door for support.

"You didn't answer the question." She crossed her arms. "I let you near my family so yeah, I'm concerned that you use illicit substances."

He worked his jaw. "If you must know, I keep the heroin use down to special occasions."

"And the other stuff?"

"We both know I'm no saint. Would you like a look at what's in my sock drawer?"

Why was she asking about this now? It had never seemed to bother her before that he used drugs.

"Don't act like I'm being unreasonable. After last night-"

"What about last night? Nothing happened," he said curtly even as his doubts from earlier returned. Because he could pretend all he wanted that what had transpired was a one off thing but he couldn't control Chloe's interpretation of events.

Her gaze was cold as ice and twice as sharp. "I understand that you don't want to talk about it and I respect that but don't you dare act like it never happened. I deserve better. _You _deserve better."

He snorted, scooting forwards until his feet were planned on the asphalt. Standing carefully, he opened the passenger door.

"We can leave now," he said.

Chloe glared at him, the first real spark of anger she'd ever directed at him. Beneath that was something else. Disappointment?

Whatever it was, it clogged the air in the car. The rest of the ride passed in a near constant state of tension so thick, it rendered both of them mute. They entered Los Angeles and still not a word had been shared, the car tracing its familiar path towards Sunset Boulevard.

Chloe pulled to a stop alongside Lux, ignoring his protests about his car still at the precinct.

"You can get it later. You're in no state to drive," she said firmly, tone too akin to an order for his liking.

Tired and stressed by the dumpster fire his life was threatening to dissolve into, Lucifer answered with only a curt goodbye and climbed out. He was just about to shut the car door when Chloe stopped him.

"When you lay down again, lay on your side and put a pillow between your knees. It'll help."

He turned to look at her but she was staring straight ahead, white knuckling the steering wheel.

"Thank you. I'll try that."

She hummed and suddenly Lucifer desperately did not want them to part ways like this, hardly speaking to one another.

"I snort coke and smoke marijuana but that's just about it," he said quietly.

And finally, she looked at him, brow raised. "What?"

He leaned down to see her, wincing. "You asked earlier about what drugs I used. That's it. I mean, sometimes pills work their way into the party but they're not really my thing."

She nodded, absorbing that information slowly. "Okay," she said at last.

"Okay?" he repeated, cocking his head.

"Yes. Thank you for answering."

Though she was acting like it wasn't a big deal, Lucifer knew better. There had been some test in that question and he had the distinct feeling he'd very nearly failed it too.

"Well, so long then. Safe travels and all that." He tapped the roof of the car uncertainly and closed the door.

She waved and pulled out, rejoining traffic. For a time, he watched, until her bumper was lost to the haze of the afternoon heat.

As he turned away, he caught a whiff of something. Head jerking up, he inhaled deeply.

It couldn't be…

But there was no denying it. Faint as it was, the scent of divinity hovered in the air. He scanned the sidewalk, expecting to see Amenadiel or another of his siblings. Perhaps Dad was stepping up the 'Return Evil Lucifer to Hell' campaign.

He couldn't pick out a face he recognized in the crowd of people going about their day, except for that blonde woman he might've slept with. Oh and that man jogging past with those sculpted calves? He'd _definitely_ slept with him.

"Knock it off or Maze will think you've lost your nerve," he hissed to himself with a violent shake of his head.

Retreating into Lux, he was greeted with a flurry of activity in the main club area. For the first time in two weeks, bartenders were polishing glasses and setting up stools.

"Patrick," he called, descending the stairs.

A young man with a ponytail looked up. "Hey boss. Maze told us the good news."

"And what news was that?" he asked, settling on one of the new stools.

Patrick dutifully poured him a scotch. "That we're reopening tonight. She called us last night and set everything up."

"Interesting she decided to not inform me," he took a drink, savoring the taste of top shelf liquor.

"I think it was meant to be a surprise," Patrick shrugged. Out of all the bartenders, he had been working at Lux for the longest and as such, had an intimate understanding of Lucifer and Maze's baffling relationship. "We're going to be packed tonight."

"Speaking of, do you happen to know where our dear Ms. Smith has gotten off to?" He held out his glass and Patrick refilled it.

"She left a note." He gestured to the far end of the bar.

Lucifer followed the motion, catching sight of a piece of paper pinned by a knife to the bar top. The _new_ bar top. His eye twitched. He'd just gotten the counter replaced and already it was nicked?

Pulling out the knife, he flinched at the whine of the wood, and picked up the note. In her typical sloppy writing, Maze explained she was off following a scent somewhere and he shouldn't wait up. It also asked a few lewd questions about his night with the Detective.

Crumpling the paper, he told Patrick he would be upstairs and to not disturb him unless something important happened. The bartender seemed surprised, which Lucifer supposed, was only natural. It was rare he ever missed a chance to party.

"Oh and Patrick? My Corvette's still at the precinct. Here," he tossed over his car keys. "I'll reimburse you for the Uber ride there."

Business settled, he took the elevator upstairs, kicking off his shoes the moment the doors opened. His jacket and shirt went next, both thrown onto the couch as he made for his own bed. Yanking off his belt with a flourish, he collapsed into the pile of expensive blankets and sheets, groaning in relief at the touch of cool fabric.

A rush of exhaustion hit him as he rolled onto his side, wiggling until his head found a pillow. He wasn't usually one for naps but right now, he felt he could sleep for an eternity.

Remembering Chloe's advice, he fumbled around for another pillow, slotting it between his bent knees. The position was a bit odd but he'd done far weirder things in the last twenty four hours.

He should really stay awake and wait for Maze. It was the responsible thing to do.

Fortunately, he was the most irresponsible being in the universe. Maze had left a note which meant she was confident she knew what she was doing. He had faith in his little demon. She'd probably wake him up later, covered in blood and brain matter and quivering with excitement.

He yawned loudly, pressing deeper into the mattress. He'd just sleep for a few hours and then when he woke up, everything would be fine. His wings issue would be resolved and… and…

"Boss?"

Lucifer jerked awake at the voice. It felt like he'd hardly closed his eyes but the penthouse was darker, evening giving way to night. How long had he been asleep?

Rubbing at his eyes, he didn't bother rolling over to see which employee was bothering him. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry to wake you but a guest downstairs is asking for you."

It figured. The one night he wanted to himself and he couldn't have it. Closing his eyes again, he sighed, "I'm not entertaining anyone tonight."

"I told him that but he was very… intense about seeing you. He said he should have special clearance? I don't know what that means. We don't have clearance levels here."

"Fine, send him up. And you better impress on him the severity of the situation. I don't like being interrupted."

The employee retreated and Lucifer tried to catch just a few more minutes of rest. All too soon though, the elevator was pinging again. He heard the doors slide open, heavy footsteps falling on the tiled floor.

"Well? Who is it?" he called, still not willing to roll over. Maybe if he was lucky, the mystery intruder would just give up once he realized he wasn't going to get the best night of his life or whatever it was he was looking for.

"Hey dude, I'm sorry to just barge in like this but I had - SHIT!"

The explosive expletive had Lucifer scrambling to his feet as he looked around wildly, expecting to see fire breathing monkeys or something similarly nefarious. Instead, all he saw was Dan, white as a sheet and mouth agape.

"Daniel, are you always this rude?" he asked, trying to calm his heart, which felt in danger of beating right out of his chest.

"I - I - didn't realize they were that bad." Dan ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Lucifer frowned. What were that bad? He looked down at himself, the contours of his chest and stomach, muscles easily defined. Usually horror was not the reaction people had to seeing him shirtless. Maybe he'd broken the detective with his animal magnetism. Dan was just about as close as one could get to sexually repressed. He had _bobble heads_ on his desk for Dad's sake!

Dan stepped closer. "I knew they were… but I didn't realize."

"Oh," Lucifer blinked. "You're talking about the scars."

Dan was still edging closer, trying to get a look at his back, and Lucifer shied away. The last time someone had been that concerned had been Chloe and he didn't want a repeat of that moment.

"What happened?" Dan seemed to realize the effect he was having and stopped crowding him but his eyes were still large as saucers, face oddly boyish with wonder.

"Maze cut off my wings," he said blandly, picking up his robe from where it was hung over a chair and shrugging it on.

He rarely felt self conscious about the state of his back. The scars were his personal badge of honor, proof he was liberated from Heaven. Most people, however, didn't stare like Dan was doing now, with this horrified intensity. Usually, people were a bit more interested in other parts of him.

"Wings? Like, angel wings?" Dan asked.

Lucifer sidestepped the shorter man, heading for the bar. "Not that I entirely mind you being here but did you have a specific reason for showing up? I'm not interested in entertaining tonight."

Now Dan was the one who looked uncomfortable. He kept his distance, hovering near the piano.

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," he confessed.

Well didn't that clear everything right up?

His eyes narrowed at a sudden thought. "Did the Detective send you here to check up on me?"

Dan shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that. It's just… I shouldn't be saying anything but you probably know anyway so what does it matter?"

"What is it I'm supposed to know?"

The boyish look had faded from Dan features, leaving behind deep set worry lines. "Chloe and I are getting divorced."

"Oh," he said after a heartbeat of pronounced silence, thoughts jumping to Chloe and how she was always so careful to say 'separated' when talking about her relationship with Dan. How she still wore her wedding ring sometimes, the tan lines never fading. How she stoutly maintained her marital status whenever someone asked her out for drinks. "How… unexpected."

Dan rolled his eyes. "Wow, don't plant all your sympathies on me at once."

"You caught me off guard." He poured himself a drink, then another for later. He had a feeling he was going to need them.

"Wait, she didn't tell you?" Dan leaned on the piano. "You guys spent eight hours stuck in a car together. What did you do, just go over the case over and over?"

No, we talked about our feelings and then she held me like a bloody toddler, he nearly said aloud. Instead, he shrugged, neither agreeing with or denying Dan's assumptions.

Dan groaned. "Great, and now I've gone and let slip to the biggest gossiper at the precinct."

"I must confess, I'm a bit surprised. The two of you really, er, hung in there." He gave a half hearted grin, not sure how to act. This divorce had been a long time coming, he'd known that for months now, but Dan seemed awfully upset about the whole thing. "But why did you come here of all places?"

"All the other guys at the precinct are married. You've always got girls hanging all over you so I thought, maybe you'd done this sort of thing? Not a divorce obviously, but a bad breakup or something. And you're Chloe's partner so I thought you'd already known the situation and…" He groaned again. "Shit man, if I told any of my buddies, they'd try to get me drunk and set me up with a prostitute."

"Do you want a prostitute?" Lucifer asked hesitantly. "They don't come around Lux because my bouncers have a habit of knocking out their pimps but I could find one for you. She'd have to be willing to sleep with you without payment, of course, or it would be a breach of free will"

"No man, I don't want a fucking prostitute!" Dan slammed his fist hard against the piano top and that just about gave Lucifer a heart attack. "You respect Chloe, yeah? Like, people are literally afraid to say anything bad about her if you're within a hundred feet of the precinct. I don't want to hear Detective Paolucci tell me that my life is going to be so much better now and that he envies me for getting divorced. And you're all kinds of screwy but you care about Chloe too."

Lucifer couldn't make head or tails of Dan's tirade and decided simply agreeing was enough. "Yes, quite right Daniel. Well put."

Dan glared but his eyes were dull. "I just want to make sure Chloe's going to be okay. I fucked up over and over and now I guess this is my punishment. But it's not fair that she has to hurt because of the things I've done." Wearily, he collapsed onto the couch. "You're her friend."

"Yes, that I am." He set a newly filled tumbler on the end table for Dan, wondering how good of a friend he could really be if he hadn't even noticed that Chloe was distressed about the divorce.

She'd seemed off a bit, especially this morning, but he'd assumed he was to blame for that with waking her so abruptly. Her patience _had_ been noticeably thinner than usual though. If she was upset, why hadn't she told him? Granted, he knew he wasn't an ideal shoulder to cry on - tears and Armani didn't mix - but he could listen!

"And she's going to need friends. We haven't even told Trixie yet and… fuck." Dan rubbed at his eyes, shoulders hunched.

Now Lucifer had seen all sorts in Hell. Some humans, their guilt was just enough to send them downwards, spiderweb thin tendrils of doubt. They were so close to Heaven, but destined for an eternity in his brimstone playground instead because their souls weighed just an ounce too heavy.

Then there were those who were strangely free of it all. They must have felt some amount of guilt but they never apologized, never confessed to any wrongdoing. Striped of flesh with nails driven through their finger tips, they'd scream that they didn't belong in Hell. Those Hell loops were always fascinating, to see a human who's perception was so enormously skewed they didn't see themselves as the villain - remarkable.

And then, there were a select few who looked as Dan did now. Whose guilt was like salt water in their lungs, burning them from the inside as they choked and sputtered. They never begged for Heaven, as if they'd always known Hell was where they were going to end up. Regardless of what the demons did, what tortures they suffered through, the guilt only ever seemed to grow. Of all the souls in Hell, these were the ones Lucifer refused to torture himself. All that hurt, they didn't need him telling them that they deserved to burn. They already believed that with every fiber of their tattered beings.

"You're not to blame, Daniel," he said.

Dan looked up disbelievingly. "And you know all about it wouldn't you? What's the longest relationship you've ever had, a week?"

"Eighteen hours actually and it wasn't a relationship by any means. More of an extended one night stand." He took a seat in the armchair opposite, twirling his empty glass between his fingers.

"So how do you know it isn't my fault then, hm? What do you know about any of it, about that kind of love and commitment?"

"I don't pretend to be an expert on either but I have seen divorces and Daniel, you're a better man than either of my parents could ever hope to be."

Dan stilled. "Your parents are divorced?"

"In a manner of speaking. Dad quite literally banned Mum from ever coming home again but it was a divorce in all but name."

Here he was again, sharing personal stories. This night wasn't going to end with him cuddling with Dan though, he'd off himself before he ever let that happen.

"How did they… discuss it with you and your siblings?" Dan asked carefully.

"They didn't. They fought and screamed and tore our family apart. I didn't see the ugly ending but I assure you, there was no love lost between them." He cocked his head, setting down his glass. "You still love Chloe. That's why you're here, because you care about her."

"I'm the one who broke it off. How much could I possibly care?" He buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking beneath his brown jacket.

Lucifer looked away, uncomfortable with the raw display. "You care enough to let go. My parents, they hung on out of spite and self righteousness. Neither of them wanted to admit that they were capable of being wrong. It was a poison."

Dan's head jerked up, eyes bright. "Why are you being so understanding? You should be judging me! That's what you do, judge people."

All the pieces clicked into place for Lucifer. "If you're looking to be punished, I suggest you leave because I won't do it," he said flatly.

"But you punish guilty people all the time," Dan protested. "You even said that's the main reason you work with the police. It's your whole shtick!"

"Yes, Daniel. _Guilty_ individuals. You've made mistakes, I'm sure, but not enough to warrant me and my special brand of whips and chains."

Dan sat there, lost. "Then what the fuck am I supposed to do?"

Lucifer rose, straightening his robe. "Break something?" He suggested. "Though I do ask you stay away from my piano, please." He looked around the room, spying the soccer ball he'd left on his bookshelf. "You can kick around a ball and break some of my lamps. I find that immensely satisfying."

"You'd let me just break your stuff?"

"Why not? They're merely objects. I have a cleaning service so it's no hassle on my end. You may have to formally apologize to my interior decorator though."

"I can't do that, man. But maybe… can I stay here? I don't want to go back to my crappy apartment right now."

"By all means, if that's what you desire. The top drawer in the bathroom has new toothbrushes if you wish to use one. You must promise me that you won't do anything stupid though, like get spectacularly drunk and choke on your own vomit." He walked to his closet, shedding off his robe as he pulled out a suit at random and looked for a shirt. "You can use my bed if you wish. I doubt I'll be needing it tonight."

"Wait, you're going out?" Dan called back.

"I'm afraid so. There's something I need to do." He changed quickly, only giving his appearance a cursory glance before returning to the main room. "You're more than welcome to use the telly and anything on the bookshelf is fair game except for that copy of Hamlet. I'm not the sentimental type but it _is_ a first edition and all."

Dan watched him head towards the elevator. "But where are you going?"

His hand stilled over the call button. "There's someone I need to speak with. I should be home before dawn."

And that was how, thirty minutes later, he found himself knocking on Linda Martin's door.

* * *

He'd swung by her office, hoping it was one of her late nights, and was not disappointed to see her office windows were the only ones in the building still aglow despite it being far past eight. The building itself was locked but a mere caress of his hand had the tumblers falling into place with gentle clicks. Entering, he strode with purpose towards his destination.

Her office door wasn't closed and he hesitated in the door frame, hand half raised to knock. She wasn't looking at him, instead pouring over what looked like her notes from that day's sessions. If he left, she'd never know. He could go back home and watch movies with Dan. Maze would eventually show up and maybe they could still have that party -

"Lucifer? Is that you?"

Running - sorry, tactically retreating - was out then.

"Yes, doctor." He took a single step into the dimly lit room, hands clasped behind his back. "I apologize for the late visit."

Linda was recovering quickly from her initial shock, features settling into that serene look that was actually as carefully constructed as stained glass. She pulled something out of her desk, walking towards him.

"I'm glad you're here. I have your wallet. I was going to mail it to you but I didn't want anything to get stolen."

"Oh, you could've kept that. It was payment for your sessions." Still, he took the offering, tucking it into his jacket pocket without bothering to count the money inside.

"I don't deserve payment, not after my behavior. And I do apologize for that. I was extremely unprofessional and I shouldn't have allowed my feelings to impact how I treated you. You were my patient and I had a moral and ethical obligation to give you the best council I was capable of," she said solemnly.

"It's hardly your fault, most people can't resist me. I can't really consider it a flaw, all things considered." He smirked but he had a feeling Linda was seeing through him.

"Well, what brings you here?" she asked, instinctively gesturing for him to take a seat.

He refused, preferring to remain standing. "I'm not here to talk about myself but I find that other people in my life need aid and I am ill equipped to fulfill that need."

"These other people? What is it they need from you?" There was a hint of disapproval, but it wasn't directed at Lucifer.

"The Detective is going through a divorce."

Linda nodded, taking her usual seat, though she didn't pull out her legal pad to take notes. "And you want to help her?"

"Yes. She's helped me recently and I want to repay the favor."

"Okay. May I ask, is wanting to repay her your main motivation for helping her?"

"Not exactly." He eyed the couch for a moment before deciding to just take a seat, crossing his legs. "I just…" He closed his eyes for a moment. "She did something… special. Something no one's ever done for me before. And I don't understand it, not a bit, but I… I don't want her to hurt. She was so certain her marriage was going to work out in the end."

"So, what do you need from me then?" Linda asked.

He opened his eyes. "How do I let her know I want to help? I want her to know that I care because, I do. I… think I get it now. How you can hurt on the behalf of another. It's not about physically feeling their pain is it? It's wanting to… protect them from it in the first place."

He had only just begun to understand the concept when Dan had spoken so lowly of himself at the penthouse. Then, Lucifer had wanted to free him of his guilt.

"So you empathize with Detective Decker?" Linda asked.

"I think so. I don't know what she's going through exactly but I know this matters to her a great deal and I can understand that much. We're friends."

"Well Lucifer, you know the detective better than I. What do you think would show her you care?"

"I was considering buying her a new car but I don't think she'd like that very much," he confessed.

Linda's eye twitched. "No, I wouldn't recommend going that route."

"But, what do I do then? She takes grand gestures the wrong way and I don't want her to think I'm being performative."

"There must be something you've done for her in the past that really resonated with her."

Was there? He thought back through their partnership. He'd taken a few bullets for her but putting their lives in danger was probably not the way to go. Maybe he could solve their current case for her? He could track down the culprit and have them arrested.

Something in him implored that he dig deeper. There was something there.

The coffee.

When he brought her the coffee.

"She likes that I get her coffee order right because I'm the only one who does that," he offered.

"So, she likes things that demonstrate a personal connection. You've worked together for a good four months now so you must know a few things she likes."

Well, that was no good. He didn't know those sorts of things.

Wait, he knew her favorite place to eat! And he knew her favorite movies because they'd discussed it during one of their early stakeouts. He knew she liked cheap wine better than the expensive stuff. He knew she liked sunrises more than sunsets and quiet evenings in over partying and that her favorite color wasn't actually blue but periwinkle.

"Lucifer?" Linda prompted.

"Thank you doctor, I understand now." He rose, dusting himself off.

Linda looked doubtful. "Are you positive? Because it would be unwise to… upset her when she's going through something so personal."

"No really, I do understand. My apologies but I need to go or else I'll be too late. Have a good evening."

"Lucifer, wait!" She called, bringing him up short. "You came here to see me so am I correct in assuming you no longer utilize a therapist?"

"Not at the moment, no." He half turned to face her, tapping his thigh impatiently.

"Do you still want one? I can put together a list of colleagues I think you might click with."

He frowned. "You're not going to try and convince me to return to you?"

She shook her head. "Of course not! I broke your trust. I would hate to be the reason you stopped going to therapy though. Not everyone is receptive to seeking help and you made progress during our brief time together, I think. It would be a shame if all that went to waste."

"I made progress?"

"Lucifer, four months ago you wouldn't have cared that Detective Decker was getting a divorce. You probably would have seen it as an opportunity to sleep with her. But tell me, have you even once since finding out considered you now have a chance at intimate relations?"

No, that thought hadn't even crossed his mind. He had been more concerned with how Chloe must be feeling.

His silence was answer enough for Linda. "For you, I consider that a huge step forward. You first came to me because you wanted help figuring out your emotions. Deciding to be a friend to Chloe, wanting to make her feel better, you did that all on your own. Yes, you still needed help with the last part but you _recognized_ that fact and took the initiative." She rose, walking to her desk and tearing a piece of paper in half. "Now, I know a few therapists who are well versed in religion. Maybe that would be a better fit for you?"

"I don't need any recommendations," he said and her face fell. "Actually, if it's all the same, I'd like to start seeing you again."

Her brow furrowed. "Are you sure? I crossed a big line."

"I am. And I'll pay you properly this time. No more sex or favors."

"Okay. Your old time slot is available if that still works for you." She didn't ask any questions, though they were definitely brewing behind her glasses. "And if at any point you feel uncomfortable, we'll find you a different therapist."

Decision made, Lucifer bid her farewell and returned to his car. He had a few errands to run before going to see Chloe. By the time he pulled up outside the beach cottage, it was rather late.

His feet crunched on the gravel driveway as he moved his shopping bags to one hand, freeing the other to ring the front bell. He could hear the ocean, much louder now that night had fully descended. Each crash spoke of an ancient power, a coiling monster capable of wiping out entire countries.

The porch light flicked on right before the door was opened to reveal a rather rumpled looking Chloe dressed in a mismatched set of pajamas.

"Lucifer? It's almost eleven. What are you doing here so late?"

He had gone full charming smile but upon seeing her red rimmed eyes and mussed hair, he lost the mask. "I'm sorry to disturb you but Daniel came to Lux earlier and we had an enlightening discussion."

"He told you about the divorce," she said flatly, arms crossed.

"He thought you'd already told me. By the time he realized his error, it was too late." He tried for a soothing tone but he wasn't sure he was achieving it. The inflictions were all wrong.

"Listen, I'm sorry, but I don't really want to deal with anyone right now, okay?" She said wearily.

"Dan and I had a talk after dinner about some things and I just need to sort out my head for a bit on my own. I'm sorry he bothered you with this, he shouldn't have dragged you into our problems."

"He didn't bother me. We had an impromptu heart to heart but it wasn't torturous." He shifted from foot to foot. "And then, well, I wanted to check on you."

"Thank you, but I'm fine," she said.

"By who's definition, yours or mine?" He challenged. "You said earlier that you wanted to know if I got anything worse than a papercut. But that's a two way street isn't it? And I may not be the best versed in this sort of thing but I reckon a broken heart is worse than burning your finger or getting a razor nick."

"My heart isn't broken," she snapped.

He ducked his head. "Yes it is."

"And how would you know?"

"Because I know you, Detective," he said simply. "I may not always get the small things, which are tremendously boring by the way, but I know you're hurt. I know I can't fix that but I can do the female post break up routine. We can braid each other's hair and watch sappy movies."

Her eyes softened. "Post breakup routine? What kind of movies are you watching, Lucifer?" Still, she stepped back, letting him enter the apartment.

He did so, kicking off his shoes and depositing his load on her kitchen counter. Chloe came up beside him, taking inventory of the different logos on each of the bags.

"You went to that burger place by the pier?" she asked, opening the bag in question.

"It's your favorite, isn't it?" He was unsure now. Maybe it had been just her favorite burger place and not actually her favorite place in the entire city to eat or-

"Yeah, it is. But how do you know that?"

He began to unpack the food. "You told me, remember? We were discussing where to go to lunch during the case with the dung beetle and you said your father used to take you there to eat on the weekends when his shift ended early."

"That was months ago. How did you remember that?"

Had he done something wrong? She was looking at him funny.

"Because you were so happy when you talked about it," he said, almost shyly.

That was one of the most remarkable things about Chloe. She could literally glow when she was excited, a flame lit somewhere beneath her skin. When she was sad, the opposite occurred and she would darken to a muted grey. Every emotion was so vivid that it was almost impossible to not get sucked in sometimes.

He'd never felt like that around anyone else before.

"What else did you get?" Her voice was noticeably thicker as she opened the next bag, pulling out a collection of movies. "Love Actually, Sleepless In Seattle, Working Girl… did you raid the entire romantic comedy section?"

"Admittedly, I didn't know precisely what to look for but one of the cashiers was more than helpful in picking out a few titles for me. Rom coms are the essential breakup movie genre, yes?"

"I guess so. I haven't watched many, oh! You got the Breakfast Club! Have you seen it?" She held up the dvd for him to inspect.

"I haven't actually." He'd tried to watch it once but the school setting had put him off. At least Hot Tub High School had shown a little skin!

The last bag was the smallest and Chloe dug in, pulling out the only box inside. "You bought me a new phone?"

"Not quite, I actually bought that cell phone for myself. You're constantly complaining about how you can't get in contact with me and this way you can call me anytime!"

Out of all his purchases, this was the one he had been most hesitant about. For whatever reason, buying the phone had felt like he was giving Chloe something personal. And in a way he was. Outside of a few dozen individuals, no one knew the number for his landline at Lux. People would have to either call the club or wait around until he showed up to get in touch with him. It was the perfect system really.

It bothered him a bit to know that, without Dan coming clean, he never would've known about the divorce until tomorrow. He wasn't exactly sure why - he usually liked personal distance - but he disliked the idea of Chloe having to spend the night alone after such a momentous shift in her life.

"That's… thank you," she said, almost puzzled. "But I know your landline number now, remember?"

"Yes but this way, we can do the texting thing. I don't spend an enormous amount of time in my penthouse," he said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Now you can reach me whenever you want, for any reason, no matter how small"

She frowned at his words, brow pinching. "What are you getting at?"

"What do you mean?" He reached for one of the paper wrapped burgers.

"You're angling. There's more to you buying the phone isn't there?" Her face cleared. "Is this because I didn't tell you about the divorce?"

He continued unwrapping the burgers. "Not exactly. I'm just making myself available for future crises."

She placed a hand over his, stopping his movements. "Hey, cut that out. Just tell me the truth. Does it bother you?"

He gently extracted his hand from her own. "I was just surprised I heard it from Daniel first. And he kept going on about how much you were going to need a friend. He really did think you'd told me already, that was one of the reasons he came over in the first place." He wasn't going to mention the punishment thing. That wouldn't go over well with her.

"Okay, you know what? You like making deals right? How about I tell you why I didn't bring it up if you tell me why it upset you. One sentence, that's all I'm asking for."

He turned the proposition over in his head before agreeing. One sentence, he could do that.

"Fine, Detective. You first."

"Alright. I didn't tell you because Dan sorta sprung the idea on me yesterday and it took me the whole day to come to terms with everything. I wanted to discuss things with him first before letting other people know. That doesn't mean I didn't trust you or that I was purposefully hiding anything from you. Then earlier today with your back pain, I didn't want to add my problems onto yours." She visibility gathered herself. "Okay, now you go."

Right. Good. One sentence. No big deal. Easy peasy. Yup.

"Well Detective…"

Good start. Now for the rest.

…

Okay, why weren't the words coming out?

He looked helplessly to Chloe, whose face was crestfallen.

"You know what? Never mind. I'm sorry. I know sharing isn't your thing. Actually, it's getting late. Maybe you should lea-"

"You're hurt!" he blurted out.

Chloe raised a brow. "Um… yes, yes I am."

"Yes!" He said emphatically, pointing at her. "And because you were hurt, so was I. I was empathizing!"

Why was Chloe looking so scared? She'd actually backed away a step.

"Do you usually empathize so forcefully?" Her eyes were slightly crossed as she tried to focus on the finger he was still pointing at her.

He dropped his hand. "Dr. Martin and I had a discussion about hurting on the behalf of others. Of course, I thought the whole idea was preposterous. Second hand pain? A ridiculous notion. But when Daniel was talking about how much he hated himself, all I could think about was you and how you must be feeling!"

"Dan said he hates himself?"

He groaned as she focused on such an insignificant detail. "Yes he did but I set him straight so there's no reason to worry."

"So all this, the movies and the food. It's because you were upset that I was upset?"

He nodded eagerly. "And I didn't want you to hurt but I wasn't sure how I could fix it so I did the next best thing."

"You wanted to fix my broken heart?"

Huzzah! They were on the same page! That wasn't too difficult. Honestly, he thought he'd done pretty good explaining himself. Exemplary even.

"You know something?" Chloe lips quivered alarmingly and his celebratory mode vanished. "You're a huge idiot."

Uh oh. Were those tears? What had he done? Oh Dad, no, no he hadn't wanted to ruin this!

"Detective, my apologies," he said softly.

"Shut up," she sniffled. "You're not just a huge idiot, you're _my_ huge idiot. And I want a hug."

A hug? He could oblige, just this once. Still baffled, he opened his arm, jerking back slightly as Chloe cannoned into him, wrapping her arms around him fiercely. Their height difference was even more obvious now, the top of her head just brushing his chin.

He raised an arm, uncertain where to place it. The urchin was so small, he usually just put his hand on her head but he couldn't do that with Chloe.

The only other option left to him really was to simply return the hug.

Wrapping his arms around her carefully, he looked down to where Chloe had her face pressed into his shirt.

This wasn't so bad, it could be worse. Actually, he almost liked this. The holding was… nice. Weird. Grabby. But nice all the same.

He loosened his grip experimentally and Chloe leaned back, understanding he'd had his fill. Separating, they went through a ritual of straightening unwrinkled clothes and dusting off non existent dirt.

"Lucifer," Chloe was first to break the silence. "Thank you. For everything. You have no idea how much this means to me."

He had a faint understanding, sort of like what had happened last night. The cosmic scale had re-balanced itself somehow.

"I never thanked you for yesterday," he said, whisper quiet.

She looked up from where she'd gone for one of the half unwrapped burgers. "You don't have to. It was weird for you and that's fine."

"No, it wasn't weird. It was," he leaned back against the counter, head tipped up in silent prayer as he closed his eyes, "remarkable."

"Lucifer…" she began.

He'd had enough of sharing these past few days. Straightening, he smiled. "So I'm _your_ huge idiot, huh? I didn't know you were into BDSM. Should I call you Mistress?"

"You're gross," she wrinkled her nose. "And just for that, I'm not sharing my burgers." But she was smiling as she said it, a genuine look of joy.

He hoped to Dad that smile would never fade.


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N - Sorry about the long wait, everyone! I hope this chapter makes up for it. Someone asked last chapter about whether or not this fic would include a celestial reveal and yes, 100%. Chloe will find out Lucifer is the Devil._

_Special thank you to MayaMM, XxSchlottixX, Jo38916791, Psychic101, Lair of the East, tsunamicats, WargishBoromirFan, Verge of Chaos, OldGirl-NoraArlani, Patougv, JayeMaru, rollwithbutter, tribeofants, and betysaucedo for your kind comments last chapter!_

**Chapter Sixteen - Never Change**

The sky was still dark, or as dark as it ever was in Los Angeles, when Lucifer returned to his penthouse. Jacket slung over his shoulder and shirt partially unbuttoned, he was the picture of casual elegance as he strolled out of the elevator and looked around. The wall clock declared it to be nearly four in the morning, not that he needed the device to tell him the time. He had built his own complex clock eons ago in the stars.

The city was caught in that odd between time, the club scene having returned to their beds and the working man not yet up and about. A silence prevailed, seeping through window frames with the chill of night. It may only last an hour, a thin line predating the dawn, but it was Lucifer's favorite time to be awake.

Laying his jacket across a bar stool, he considered pouring himself a nightcap - morning cap? - before turning in for a few hours. The wall of expensive liquors sparkled on their back lit shelves, a gentle invitation. Tonight, however, he would have to turn down the call of amber whiskeys and translucent tequilas.

Turning to survey the room, he noticed belatedly that something was amiss. Or rather _someone_. Where had Daniel gone?

The leather couch showed signs of habitation - a bed pillow was propped against the couch arm along with a blanket - but the detective himself was nowhere in sight.

Lucifer wandered over to the makeshift bed, running nimble fingers along the leather. Cold.

He withdrew, one hand coming up to tug at his cuff links as he did a slow one eighty. Well, if Daniel had decided to leave, there wasn't much he could do about it. His bar looked untouched at least, so hopefully wherever the man had gone, he'd done so sober.

Refolding the blanket, he tucked it under his arm along with the pillow and went to return them to their rightful place. Ascending the stairs to his bedroom, he came up short at the sight which greeted him.

Dan was snuggled in the blankets on the far side of the bed, mouth wide open as he breathed.

Lucifer set the spare pillow and blanket down on the edge of the bed, watching the other man for a moment. He couldn't really be cross, could he? He had, after all, graciously offered his bed. Still, Daniel was on _his _side.

Climbing onto the other side of the bed, he crawled over until he loomed over Dan, hands resting on either side of Dan's head as he leaned over, placing them nearly nose to nose.

"Daniel?" he said softly.

Dan snored in response.

"Daniel," he repeated, blowing on him.

There was huff, a breath interrupted midway through, and one pale pale peeled open. Lucifer smirked, an innuendo balanced on his tongue, but lost the expression as Dan jolted, sitting up with a startled scream and smacking their heads together.

Lucifer jerked back, more out of surprise than pain, and grasped onto the headboard to maintain his balance. Actually, he hadn't felt much of anything beyond a bit of pressure. Dan was making odd noises though, clasping his forehead with his hands as he writhed on the bed, moaning in a decidedly unsexy manner.

"Dude, what the fuck were you doing?" he gasped, still holding onto his head.

Lucifer shrugged, settling back on his haunches. "That's my side of the bed."

"So why were you leaning over me like a fucking serial killer?" he demanded hotly.

He raised a brow. "Now now, Daniel. Language. You have a rather unrefined vocabulary. It's unbecoming."

Dan ignored the jibe, rolling onto his side with his eyes closed. "Oh God, I think you broke my face."

Lucifer sighed. "I assure you, He doesn't give a toss. And your face isn't broken. Orbital fractures make this very specific crunching noise, like treading on glass." Actually, it was more like snapping a plastic hanger, according to Maze. He had, proudly, never owned something as un-decorated as a plastic hanger and therefore had never been able to confirm whether or not that particular comparison was accurate. Besides, the image of breaking glass under your shoe was _cool._

Dan lowered his hands, sputtering. "And how would you know that?"

"Because I've both stepped on glass _and_ broken someone's face." Why was Dan looking at him like he had ten heads?

"You know what? Forget I asked. I don't want to know." Dan released his head gingerly, though his eyes remained screwed up. "Is this usually how you wake up your guests?"

"No, usually I wake them up with sex."

And Daniel was choking again. Brilliant.

While he waited for him to recover, Lucifer sprawled out beside him, linking his hands behind his head. The bed was large enough there was plenty of space between them, a blessing, as Dan was still jerking about like a fish on a line. As fond as he was of Daniel, if he elbowed him in the face because of all his squirming, he was going to launch the smaller man off the bed.

"You know, there's such a thing as too much information," Dan said once his newest coughing fit had abated. He sat up shakily, placing his head between his knees and taking slow, deep breaths.

Lucifer huffed, turning partway to face him. "Then why did you ask in the first place?" Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "Now, I don't care whether or not you stay but you can't have that side of the bed."

"I'm not sharing the bed with you, dude," he said, voice muffled by his jeans.

"Well, I'm truly sorry to be the bearer of bad news - actually no, I'm not - but that's precisely what we're doing right now."

Dan finally looked up. His eyes danced from where Lucifer reclined serenely to the mere two feet of maroon sheets separating him and back again, face spasming with newly realized horror.

Lucifer watched him, bemused. "Something wrong, darling?"

At the term of endearment, Dan's eyes bugged.

"I'm not gay," he said faintly.

"I never said you were," Lucifer said, stretching. His back felt almost good as new and he relished the way the tension that had been simmering through him all day from shoulders to toes released at once. "It _is_ a shame though, you depriving the male half of the species. Why your abs, they're positively begging to be licked."

Dan looked down, for the first time realizing he was shirtless. With a whine, he grabbed the comforter and pulled it up to his chin, hiding himself from view.

Lucifer chuckled to himself, rolling out of bed. He wasn't particularly tired at the moment, having taken a nap earlier. In general, he only needed a few hours of sleep a night to remain functioning. There was something ethereally peaceful about sleeping on Earth though. In Hell, truly resting was an inconceivable notion. He always had to be prepared, never allowed to show weakness, least he receive a knife in the back. The knife wouldn't kill him, obviously, but hell forged blades were arduous to yank out at the best of times.

Dan was looking a bit guilty now. "If you want to sleep, I can go back to the couch. I only moved in here because you said you probably weren't coming back."

"There's not much reason to. The sun's going to rise in," he leaned back to get a look through the curtains, "three hours. Would you like breakfast?"

"No, thank you. I've bothered you enough." He flopped back onto the mattress. "I didn't mean to dump all my problems on you last night."

"I'll admit, it wasn't how I thought I'd spend my evening. I do insist that you eat though. Let it never be said that someone spent the night with Lucifer Morningstar and left unsatisfied. Even if that means you simply have an omelet."

Dan was unconvinced. "I'll just go. I have to get home so I can go to the gym before work anyway."

"I'm sure taking one day off from your workout won't wreck your figure." He unclasped his cuff links, working them out of their holes and setting them on the nightstand. "How about a deal then? I recently bought a cellular phone and don't know how to set it up. In exchange for getting the device in working order, I'll make you breakfast."

"You're not gonna let this drop, huh?" Dan asked, but a smile was creeping onto his face.

"Nope," Lucifer said cheerfully. "So, Daniel, what do you say? Will you make a deal with the Devil?"

Dan hesitated a moment, face serious. "That depends, do you have bacon?"

"I do, as a matter of fact."

"Great." He leapt out of the bed, picking up his discarded shirt and pulling it on. "I accept your deal."

And that was how Lucifer found himself managing several pans on the stove, sleeves rolled up to protect them from the snapping grease leaping out at him. Dan had set up shop at the kitchen island, where he was fiddling with the new phone, manuals spread across the granite counter top.

Lucifer had turned on his sound system, the sound of Fleetwood Mac creating a nice backdrop to the oddly domestic scene. Humming absently to himself, he poked at the sizzling bacon critically before turning his attention to the omelet in the next pan over. The toaster beeped, bread popping up with a hiss. He abandoned the stove to butter the toast, one eye trained on the various pans to ensure nothing burned.

Cooking was all about timing, one of the reasons Lucifer enjoyed the activity. It took real precision to have everything finish at the same time, a matter of seconds all that stood between the perfect scrambled eggs and a charred mess. There was a bit of a challenge to it, like playing Scriabin on the piano.

Also similar to music, Lucifer had found the sharing of food to be deeply spiritual in nature. Few things were designed purely for the pleasure of all those involved in the act. Even sex, as infatuated as he was with the act, had originally been a way for his Dad's little creations to grow their population. The pleasure aspect, he was fairly certain, had been an unforeseen, if enjoyable, consequence.

Assembling the food on two plates, he carried them to where Dan was refolding the manuals.

"Okay, I've got your phone set up. I'll show you how to add someone's contact info after - woah," Dan broke off, staring at the plate set before him. "You do realize there's only two of us, right?"

Lucifer frowned. "Too much?"

He hadn't been able to choose between a traditional english or american breakfast and had simply cooked both. Dan's plate was lost beneath an omelet, fried eggs, bacon, two types of sausage, tomatoes, toast, and beans. Lucifer had held back a bit, actually. As elastic as the human stomach was, there was a limit. And he very much did not want Dan retching all over his pristine kitchen. Their friendship would never survive that.

"I mean, dude, this is more calories than I eat in an entire day." Dan picked up a fork, poking feebly at the overwhelming volume of food.

"I may have overdone it just a tad," Lucifer said cautiously.

He'd been having fun cooking for someone he actually knew rather than a stranger. Somehow, it meant more to him. He always strove for perfection in anything he did but Dan's breakfast was easily the most elaborate he'd ever cooked. Baked beans were something he usually only made if he was dining alone, Maze disliking the smell.

Dan was still nudging his food around. "Just a bit. Do you eat like this every morning? How often do you work out?"

"Sometimes and no, I don't." He watched Dan for a moment. "Now, I know in our deal I didn't specify that you _eat _the breakfast I make but please, I insist." Gesturing vaguely with his own fork, he took a stab at the bacon and began to eat.

Dan visibly gathered himself before diving in, though he steadfastly avoided the toast. Lucifer smiled inwardly. The complex relationship between humans and carbs was a fascinating one.

"So," Dan said between bites, "where did you go last night?"

"To see the Detective."

Dan stilled. "Oh… good. How was she?" Though he tried for casual, the wavering edge to his voice gave him away.

Lucifer shrugged. "She was, understandably, upset. I went to look in on her and we had some burgers, watched a movie."

"You didn't sleep with her?" The question was nearly threatening.

"No Daniel, I left so the Detective could get some rest. Alone." He smiled thinly. "As you ought to know already, I would never take advantage."

"Right." Dan looked down, rubbing his neck. "I know I wasn't exactly welcoming when you first started working with Chloe. Actually, I was afraid you were going to get her killed. She had more guns pointed at her in the first month she knew you than her entire career."

"In my defense, the Jimmy Barnes incident would've happened with or without my interference. I merely expedited things." He was nearly finished with his breakfast, eyeing Dan's half filled plate.

Dan caught his look, wordlessly pushing his plate across the counter. "Either way, thank you for taking care of her. For me. For Trixie. For herself too."

"Happy as I am to be her partner, we both know the Detective doesn't need to be taken care of." He rose, setting aside his napkin. "If you'll excuse me, your melancholic mood has me in desperate need of a cigarette. You're being rather melodramatic this morning."

"You're one to talk. Aren't you the one that has a temper tantrum every time the vending machine runs out of your favorite snacks?" Dan snorted. "I should probably get going, actually. I need to be at work soon." He tapped the new phone. "Do you want me to show you how to add phone numbers before I leave?"

They had a quick lesson, Dan adding his number and then handing over the phone so Lucifer could add Chloe's. Lesson finished, Lucifer carried the plates to the sink while Dan left for home.

Lucifer remained at the sink until he heard the elevator doors closed. Then, he walked out to the balcony, leaning against the railing as he lit up a cigarette. The sky was only just beginning to change colors, the dark purple streaked with pink.

Instinctively, he looked upwards, searching for his stars. After eons spent in Hell, he'd always relished in seeing his creations during his brief visits topside. Los Angeles was not the place to live if one liked the night sky though. The twinkling balls of light were far away, farther than even Heaven felt sometimes. Maybe he'd plan a trip to go out into the desert one night, away from all the light pollution. He could sit up on a rise and just watch for a bit, count all the stars that had died while he'd been away.

Blowing out a thin stream of smoke, he laughed to himself. Now who was being melancholic? He chain smoked idly, watching as the night fled the city. Cars began to appear on the roads, headlights carving out cylinders of light in the quickly fading darkness. In an hour, people would be walking about, the silence of the pre-dawn officially lost.

In the meantime, he watched an ecosystem as delicate as piano wire come alive.

* * *

If Amenadiel knew he was currently mirroring his brother's position, despite the miles which separated them, he would've been disgusted. As it were, his balcony lent him an excellent view of the ocean and, when sleep eluded him, he often found it therapeutic to watch the waves roll onto the sand in an endless, uninterrupted pattern.

Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Close as he was to the beach, the scent was nearly masked by the sour tang of car exhausts and whatever else made up Los Angeles' constant smog. Still, the salt water smell was there, just a hint of something fresher, more hopeful.

And hope was something he was in desperate need of.

Abandoning the balcony, he went back inside his apartment, ignoring the golden light squeezing out from around the closed bedroom door. The flow of divinity had been steadily increasing for the last day but now the wings were hemorrhaging, the brilliant out-pour blinding even to him.

His hands twitched at his sides. For hours he'd prayed to his Father, seeking guidance, but his pleas had gone unanswered. He'd nearly called upon Michael but doing so felt like admitting defeat. Returning Lucifer to Hell was _his_ duty.

Besides, this whole problem was Lucifer's fault anyway. If he hadn't cut off his wings or just gone back to Hell, none of this would have happened. His younger brother should know his place by now. After years of fighting a punishment he'd earned, what did he have to show for it, truly?

Nothing.

He began to pace in circles around the couch, the apartment walls closing in on him. His shoulder blades tickled, wings begging to be let out for a bit. Wings however, were the last thing he wanted to think about.

Restlessness was not a feeling he was accustomed to. No corner of the universe was inaccessible to him, be it the furthest reaches of the Heavens, where not even the stars shown, or the deep tunnels running through Hell. Now, that nearly endless space felt wholly insufficient.

Finishing another circuit around the apartment, he averted his gaze from the streams of divinity crawling across the floor. He needed to get out for a bit, walk around the city maybe. Since coming to Los Angeles, he hadn't gotten a chance to explore the area as a human. Seeing his father's creations… yes, that was just what he needed.

He changed into one of a few human outfits he had picked up over the past few months - a pair of jeans and a simple crew neck tee shirt. The cloth was rough against his skin, so unlike his Heavenly yarns, but if it was enough for his father's creations - and Lucifer - then he was satisfied.

Locking his apartment, he took the stairs down to the main lobby, exiting onto South Catalina Avenue. He'd only come through this way a few times. His eyes flickering around as he got his bearings. The city certainly looked far different from this perspective. Dirtier too, he thought, watching a plastic bag drift past him.

It was early still, the streets mostly deserted. He picked a direction at random, making notes of landmarks as he walked. A haze of light, harsh greens and pinks pried into the sky and he headed toward it.

They were neon signs, gaudy letters declaring the names of corner stores and eateries. Here, a few people were milling around, most with the standard stagger of the severely inebriated or the weary, heavy steps of those coming off their night shifts. A graffitied bus stop stood on the corner and appeared to be the destination of most people, though a few ducked into a lit diner just beyond.

Amenadiel gave the diner a curious look. He could make out the huddled shapes of people eating at booths pressed against the windows. If he wasn't mistaken, diners were a sort of trading post specializing in cheap food options.

He dug into his pocket, removing a thin roll of bills and fanning them out to count. Even though he didn't need to eat, he found food to be interesting. Such diverse smells and so many options.

Going to cross the street, he jerked back just in time to avoid a car passing. He'd almost forgotten that time was still flowing.

Checking both ways, before trying again, he crossed the road with deliberate diner door squealed as he pulled it open and stepped into the harsh yellow lit space. A waitress pouring coffee looked up but most of the other occupants simply ignored him, caught in their well practiced, robotic motions.

Amenadiel was reminded of wraiths then. These people existed, but only just. The march of time, of life, they were indifferent to it all. They were figures of stone, as constant as the plastic chairs and discolored walls until the inevitable end.

Shaking himself, he took a seat at the counter. A waitress greeted him with a curt nod, setting down a sticky plastic menu as she carried a coffee cup to another customer. He leaned over, studying his choices.

In the end, he simply ordered a coffee. Sipping the dark steaming liquid, he nearly spat it out again. Forcing himself to swallow the bitter liquid, he stared at the mug in disgust. Humans willingly drank this concoction?

The waitress smirked at him, sliding over a container. "This isn't one of those fancy Starbucks. You need to add your own sugar."

He peered into the small container, looking at the white powder inside. He'd seen something like this at Lucifer's penthouse. But his brother didn't put it in his coffee, instead he snorted it…

He sniffed the powder, relishing the sweet scent after the bitterness staining his tongue. Tipping a few granulates into his coffee, he watched them disperse in the liquid. Fascinated, he added more.

His focus was so thoroughly consumed, he didn't notice as another person shambled into the diner. The man was almost lost beneath his layers of jackets, despite it being only mid October. Hands in his pockets, he swayed drunkenly, work boots scraping on the tiled floor.

Amenadiel finished off his coffee, grimacing. Did Lucifer really drink this stuff? Perhaps his brother's life on Earth wasn't solely a party then. Even with all the additional sugar, the liquid was still bitter.

The creeping tendrils of pink, hardly visible in the sky, told him it was nearing dawn. He would have to get back to his apartment and change so he could perform his daily check up of Hell. He shuddered to himself, already feeling the ash lodging in his feathers and the sound of echoing screams of agony.

Lost in thought, he failed to notice as the bundled figure followed him out of the diner. Similarly, he was unaware as his shadow slipped into his building's lobby behind him.

Once upstairs, he quickly changed into his Heavenly robes - the demons would call and jeer if he showed up in anything else - and took off from his balcony. With any luck, he'd be back before the sun officially rose.

Back in the apartment, the shut bedroom door still leaked divinity, the golden beams carpeting the floor and spreading across the walls in a thick haze caught somewhere between liquid and gas. A clock ticked, the only noise in the apartment.

That was, until the knob on the front door turned, each click of its rotation menacing as a bullet, and a shadow slipped inside.

* * *

As Chloe went about getting ready for work, she imagined she was stepped into an impregnable suit of armor. Each layer of clothing, each strand of hair controlled in her ponytail, was another piece designed to ward off the rest of the world. By the time she dropped Trixie off at school, she felt completely in control of herself.

The next few weeks were going to be trying. Less than twelve hours after talking to Dan about divorce lawyers, she was now heading to the precinct to work a case with him. If not for the case, she would have called out and taken a day for herself. Lucifer had given her all those movies. She could've had her own binge marathon, ice cream and pajamas included.

Practicality, as it often did with her, won out. She could take time off after this case. Her vacation time had been accumulating, unused, for the past five years. Maybe she and Trixie could go away for a long weekend, meet up with her mom. Where was she again? Chicago? Grand Rapids? She couldn't remember the convention schedule.

Her musings carried her through the morning traffic, the typical honking of horns and congested intersections not bothering her as they normally would. When she reached the precinct, she parked in the mostly empty parking garage. In half an hour, every spot would be filled. She'd always liked to get an early start while it was still quiet though. Besides, being early meant she got to park close to the elevators.

Entering the homicide floor, she reveled in the near silence that greeted her. The air conditioners hummed overhead, a backdrop as soft as the chill caressing the back of her neck. A few detectives were already in the bullpen, going over files and drinking their first - or third in the case of Detective Jameson - coffee of the day.

The peace was all too rare for a department usually searching for child murderers and serial killers.

Descending the stairs, Chloe began to mentally list what she wanted to accomplish for the day. Aside from looking through the CV footage gathered from the businesses around the crime scene, she would also need to identify the gang member who had been killed in the prison riot. From there, his parents and other close family would become their main focus as possible suspects. Most of the work would be tedious but a day spent in the precinct sounded wonderful at the moment. She wasn't in the mood to stomp the streets today.

As she passed the lieutenant's office, she faltered. Once the divorce was official, she would have to notify HR but what about Monroe? Maybe she should give her superior a heads up. It felt like a courtesy she should extend, warning the other woman about possible tensions in her ranks. That way, hopefully she wouldn't be assigned to work any more cases with Dan.

As she internally debated, movement by her desk caught her attention. The row of filing cabinets and glass divider partially obscured her view but it looked like someone was sitting at her desk.

Now, there were several unvoiced rules which nearly all detectives followed - or the ones who weren't asses, at least. They included not stealing each other's lunches, not worming into other's investigations, and not sitting at someone else's desk.

A lecture was already half formed in her mind as she stalked over, intending to tell off whoever it was who had decided to commandeer her desk. She had private case files!

"Excuse me, can I-" she cut herself off as she rounded the corner.

Lucifer was sitting in her wheelie chair, their current case file opened in front of him. It looked like he'd been there some time, an empty wrapper by his elbow all that remained of a muffin.

He looked up at her, eyes crinkling in a smile. "Ah, Detective! Good morning."

"Morning," she said, wondering if she was dreaming. Lucifer? Willingly doing work? Someone must've died. It was the only explanation.

Lucifer's face fell at her apparent lack of excitement but he rebounded quickly, reaching for one of two coffee cups sitting on the edge of the desk.

"For you," he said, holding it out expectantly.

She took it, the heat warming her hand. "You're here early. And thank you. I didn't have a chance to grab a coffee on the way over."

"Oh I've been here since six," he said dismissively, sliding into his regular chair.

"Six? It was nearly four when you left my house. Did you sleep at all?" She took her own seat, glancing over the open file. No scribbles in the margins, no doodles of naked women. Had he really been studying the case?

"I took a nap after we returned to LA yesterday. Besides, I'm well accustomed to sleepless nights," he smirked.

His implication barely fazed her. "Right. So, you came in early to actually learn about our case?"

He tutted. "Not just learn." He reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small leather notebook. "I've been making notes too!"

"Oh?" She just managed to contain her smile. "And what did you learn?"

"That we need more interesting victims!" He flipped open the notebook with a dramatic flourish. "Our victim had no connections to cartels, terrorists, or international crime organizations. She never even cheated on a bloody exam!"

Yep, she knew it was too good to be true.

"Well now that we've established that Emily Ying has no criminal record," she resisted rolling her eyes, "maybe we should focus on figuring out the identity of her killer."

"Oh, wait!" He turned a few pages. "I know the name of the gang member who died in the prison riot." He laid the notebook open on her desk, revealing lines of his neat, elegant writing. "Aaron Turner."

"What? How did you find out so fast?" She leaned over, staring at the name. There was no way. He'd only come in two hours ago and the court offices weren't even open yet.

He shrugged, a shit eating grin on his face. "I called in a favor with Judge Malloy. Mr. Turner here was trampled to death after a group of prisoners started a fight with several guards."

"Malloy? _Presiding _Judge Malloy?" She'd heard Lucifer brag often enough about having connections but to know the head of the LA Superior Court personally…

Lucifer leaned back in his chair, kicking his feet up on the edge of her desk. "Yes, he's a personal acquaintance. A few years ago, I got him out of a spot of trouble that would have, ah, had an adverse effect on his career had it become public. He invites me to accompany him golfing some weekends." Smoothing his waistcoat, he looked remarkably like a preening peacock. "The clerk's office assured me the Turner file would be sent over as soon as they opened."

"I - thank you, Lucifer. This is extremely helpful."

As he often did under her praise, he all but glowed. "Naturally, I'm a very helpful Devil. I don't know what you'd do without me."

Okay, time to reel in that ego a bit. Reaching over, she pushed his loafers off her desk. "Well, it's a good start at least."

It was more than a good start. She'd figured it would've taken until evening to get through all the red tape standing between her and the files she needed. Now, armed with the name she needed, the investigation could progress much faster.

Why couldn't he always be like this?

Even as she watched him from the corner of her eye, the way he was alert and focused on her despite his lazy sprawl in his chair, she knew the answer.

Before last night, Lucifer had never struck her as a coddler. And that wasn't quite the right word to describe him now, either. Bringing over her favorite food, then staying all night curled up on the couch with her and watching movies was definitely miles from his comfort zone. Lucifer was the sort of person who liked his distractions bold and loud. Yet he'd pushed all that aside for her.

And now today, showing up even earlier than she did to work on their case…

Outside of her daughter, work was one of the most important things to Chloe. Aside from genuinely wanting to help people, she felt responsible for carrying on her father's legacy. John Decker had never taken the step to detective and though he'd often said it was because he wasn't interested in taking on additional responsibilities, Chloe had always known he'd done it for her. Beat cops didn't apprehend serial killers or get regularly shot at. They did their jobs and went home to their waiting families.

The first time Chloe had been shot, a graze to the shoulder she'd taken only a few months after being promoted, Trixie had only been four. By the time Trixie was seven, that number had jumped to three.

Her own father had only ever taken one bullet - the one that killed him.

Her job was important to her, so important, she pursued it even knowing that all that brought her home to her daughter every night was instinct and a bit of luck. She argued to herself that she was ensuring Trixie grew up in a safer environment. Every killer she jailed was one less threat to her family.

And somehow, without her voicing a word of it aloud, Lucifer knew all that. He didn't know the details, of course, but he understood the importance she placed on her work, the doubts that dogged her relentlessly. He was the first to attack those who criticized her, the last to walk away from her theories.

She carried no illusions about Lucifer. Most of the cases they worked bored him relentlessly and though he often mentioned it being his duty to punish the guilty, she knew it was their partnership that kept him around. He was invested in detective work because _she_ was.

Swallowing back the numerous emotions bubbling in her gut, she pulled out her own notebook and flipped to a clean page. "While we wait for the clerk's office to send over the Turner file, we can start viewing the CV footage. I'd like to have at least a possible ID on our hitman soon."

Lucifer's hand twitched on his thigh. "Watch CV footage? But we have a lead! Let Daniel do the boring work."

Chloe tried to keep her expression steady at the mention of Dan but judging by Lucifer's furrowed brow, her attempt hadn't been successful.

"Detective," he started but she cut across him.

"It's okay, Lucifer. Really. I'm fine," she said sharper than she'd intended.

Lucifer cleared this throat, long piano fingers twisting his ring. "Right," he said, though it didn't sound like he believed her.

She sighed. "Let's just… can we just work?"

He nodded and, though he was quick to return to his usual jovial self, there was a strained tightness around his eyes that didn't fully dissipate.

Together, they wrote out a rough outline of how they would question Aaron Turner's parents while waiting for the case file to arrive. Dull as the work was, neither complained, remaining mostly quiet while the bullpen slowly filled.

"We should hold off on your mojo, I think," Chloe said sometime later. "I don't want to put them on their guard too early. Even if they're not guilty, there's still a good chance they could point us in the right direction."

Lucifer huffed, stealing another sip of her cooled coffee. "But it would be faster if I just asked them immediately instead of prancing around the topic with these questions."

"Faster, yes. But not more efficient. People sometimes clam up after you get them to reveal something huge. If the Turner's ask for a lawyer, any chance we have of solving this case cleanly goes out the window."

"Well, if we found out who their lawyer is, I could have Maze pay them a little visit and, ah, persuade them that representing the Turner's wouldn't be in their favor."

Her eyes narrowed. "For the hundredth time, we can't just threaten or blackmail people to get confessions."

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "I know! But that's the beauty of having Maze do it. _She's_ not involved with the police."

She tapped her pencil against the desk, wondering whether or not to bother with trying to explain to him the severely dubious ethics of what he was proposing. Honestly, it would probably go over his head anyway. Lucifer had this uncanny ability to 'forget' information that conflicted with his interests.

"How about we just try it my way?"

He groaned, reaching again for her coffee. "But we never try my methods! I thought partnerships implied equal input. You ignore all of my suggestions."

"Because _I'm_ the one who spent the last ten years becoming a detective and learning the rules while you run around half cocked."

Lucifer chuckled at her choice of words. "Half cocked?" he repeated.

"Shut it and stop stealing my coffee!" She plucked her nearly empty cup out of his hand, setting it on the far side of the desk, beside the other coffee he'd brought. "Why don't you drink from your own cup?"

Lucifer lost some of his mirth. "That's not for me, actually."

"Oh." She blinked and, before her brain could catch up, asked, "Who's it for then?"

"Daniel."

And now he wasn't looking at her, eyes trained on his loafers as he swiveled back and forth in his chair.

She didn't know what to say. A grain of jealousy made itself known in the back of her mind. Lucifer brought _her_ coffee. That was their thing. She banished the thought hastily, not wanting to give it a chance to take root and grow.

"Detective," Lucifer said once the silence had stretched from uncomfortable to excruciating. "Do you… am I to take a side in all this?"

He looked up at her as he spoke and she could clearly read in his expression what it was he hadn't voiced. If she asked him to stop speaking to Dan, he would do it. For her. He'd give up his new friendship without a complaint if that's what she wanted.

Chloe had never felt like there was an imbalance of power between her and Lucifer before. They were equally stubborn yet also yielded to one another when necessary. There were no attempts to one up each other, both confident enough in their roles to not feel insecure. But now Lucifer was throwing that equilibrium completely off kilt.

Many a time she'd longed for this sort of control over Lucifer. He so often ran wild and it scared her, like when a dog slipped its leash and darted into the road. She was positive he'd given her at least a few grey hairs since they'd begun working together. All she wanted was for him to at least heed her a bit - especially when guns were pointed at them.

Now, confronted with the chance to enact her dream, she found the fantasy hardly lived up to reality. She didn't want the power, not a bit. Who was she to make such a decisive decision in his life? And more importantly, how highly did he regard her if he was offering it in the first place?

"Lucifer, no, you don't have to stop talking to Dan. That wouldn't be fair to you." She twisted in her seat to face him fully. "Dan and I want to part amiably. We discussed it over dinner last night, I guess before he went to your place. Right now, everything's new but we're not blacklisting each other."

Lucifer's shoulders relaxed, a tension she hadn't even noticed uncurling. "Thank you," he said.

"You don't have to thank me. No one has to pick a side because there's no side to choose. We _both_ didn't work. Neither of us bad mouth each other to Trixie or try to make one of us the villain."

His head cocked at that. "The spawn… she is expected to get along with both of you?"

"Well of course," she laughed, though it wasn't particularly funny. "Why would we make her choose? What parent would do that to their child?"

He straightened with a delicate cough. "Right, yes, of course. I was merely… nevermind. Shall we start looking through the CV footage?"

Chloe frowned at his change in demeanor but let it slide, rising to head towards the room they'd commandeered for the investigation. Maybe he was just uncomfortable with the conversation. She hadn't meant to get so personal but she, quite literally, only had a handful of friends and Lucifer was easily the one she was closest to. In fact, sometimes it felt like he was the _only_ one she could talk to.

The thought brought her up short, her shoe catching on a wayward wire and causing her to stumble. Lucifer's hand was around her arm in an instant, steadying her.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Y-yeah. Fine. Tripped on something," she said, feeling heat rise in her cheeks, both from her thoughts and the embarrassment of almost faceplanting.

He gave her a long, searching look before releasing her, trailing behind her as they continued to the viewing room.

Having Lucifer at her back didn't help her situation, the flush now creeping down her neck. Her embarrassment made her hyper aware. She swore she could feel the heat of his body against her own skin, his breath ruffling her hair. His footsteps echoed her own, the muted taps an answering call to the higher click of her own shoes.

Was he always this close to her?

The viewing room was a small space set up in the back corner of the precinct. Once an office, now a row of televisions sat where once there had been a desk and filing cabinets. Their collected footage, neatly labeled and boxed, was already waiting for them. Dan had mentioned something yesterday about having gone over the first half of the tapes.

Picking up the remote, she turned on the TVs, videos with varying degrees of graininess sputtering to life. The way it had been set up, each TV had been set so the footage was in the same order as the businesses themselves. She had an almost uninterrupted view of both the park and sidewalk for several hundred feet in either direction.

Taking a seat in one of the plastic chairs, she gestured for Lucifer to join her and hit play.

The work was even drearier than mocking up interrogation questions. They would have to watch the same footage for each day a dozen times at least before fast-forwarding to the next day.

Emily Ying went jogging at almost the exact same time, which made it easier to narrow down their time frame. As Dan had previously mentioned, the same adult wearing a nondescript hoodie was always in the park when the young woman jogged past.

For the two weeks leading up to the murder, he would sit on the park bench about ten minutes before Ying jogged past and then leave shortly after. Watching, Chloe felt a sense of dread. Murder was always unpleasant but to see a killer quite literally stalk their target, the cold efficiency of it all, bothered her. Crimes of passion were terrible but at least there was a human explanation for what triggered the event. The explanation was rarely enough to justify taking a life - but love, hatred, fear; she understood those.

This though, a shadow lurking like Death, waiting to claim a victim he'd most likely been paid to murder… fundamentally it was disturbing.

"This was premeditated," she muttered to herself, fast-forwarding to the day before the murder. "There's no way this wasn't a hit. Look at the way he hides his face with his hood," she pointed with the remote. "He's making sure to avoid the cameras."

"Yes, he certainly does seem to be aware of his surroundings. Take, for example, how he always arrives on foot rather than a car."

"That could mean he's local, but I doubt it. Committing crimes too close to home is a sure way to get caught. More likely, this guy parks a few streets over, maybe somewhere crowded. We could canvas more streets, but it would probably be a waste. If he's this conscious, I can't imagine he would let his license plate get caught on camera."

"Of course, we're assuming he doesn't use," Lucifer shuddered, "_public transport_."

"Oh c'mon, the bus isn't that bad," she rolled her eyes.

"Au contraire. Buses are germ pools on wheels. All those grubby hands touching everything," he looked fairly pained as he said it, as if some horrid memory had been dug up. "And those plastic seats! The only good thing that can be said is they're easy to sanitize, at least. Carrying around wet wipes is hardly practical though."

"You would sanitize a bus seat?" she asked, hiding a smile. Lucifer would hate her for it, but at times like this, she found him endearingly cute. He would become so serious over the most random of topics.

"And the handrail, the windows, the armrests. Really, it's not at all worth the hassle. Besides," he fixed his cuffs, "the Devil has no need of buses nor trains."

"I guess you're right. The Devil's probably a Mercedes-Benz kind of guy."

Lucifer gaped at her, affronted. "A Mercedes? How singularly unimaginative. I would never own something so mundane!"

She couldn't hide her giggle. "You're right. I wasn't thinking. Though, you do know that your convertible isn't exactly rare, right?"

He snorted, folding his arms. "Shall we continue working?"

Oh, he was conceding! It was rare she came out the victor in one of their verbal exchanges.

Her brief elation was stomped out as she fast-forwarded to the day of the murder itself. She unintentionally held her breath as they watched the same hooded man take his usual seat on the park bench. The small green space held only a few dog walkers and a mother pushing a stroller, the clear sky making the grass twinkle despite the grey-scale.

Everything was so picturesque, nothing even hinting at the brutality that would shortly occur.

They watched, silent, as Emily Ying jogged across the TV screens for the last time. Her ponytail bounced in time with her stride as she passed the bench, slowing her pace a bit. The shadow on the bench stood and, in a well practiced movement, pulled the gun from his hoodie pocket and aimed at the back of her head.

The recordings had no sound but Chloe still flinched at the sight of the woman's body crumpling into itself, a marionette who's strings had been sliced. The assassin wasted no time in disappearing, taking off down the street at a hurried pace while people were still looking around frantically, shocked.

Pausing the recording, she rewound, intending to play the footage again. This time, she paid attention to only the killer, studying the path he took as he flitted from TV screen to TV screen before disappearing off the edge.

"That's all the footage collected," Lucifer asked, leaning down to rifle through one of the cardboard boxes resting on the floor.

"They collected footage from every camera on the street. We know the direction he fled though, maybe he parked one street over?"

"Or maybe he hailed a cab," Lucifer gave up his searching with a long suffering sigh. "We haven't learned anything!"

Chloe refused to give in to his impatience. So, maybe the tapes didn't give them exactly what they needed but when had their job ever been that easy?

"C'mon, let's go and see if the Turner file is here yet." She stood, beckoning him to follow her back to her desk.

The bullpen had grown busy during their reprieve - groups of people milling around all over. Chloe tried to keep her focus pinned on her destination but she couldn't help how her gaze drifted to Dan's desk. Sure enough, he was sitting in his chair, back to her as he spoke on the phone.

Lucifer breezed past her, collecting the second coffee cup and making for Dan. Halfway there, his steps stuttered and he looked over her shoulder.

She silently nodded for him to go and interact with Dan, which Lucifer did, beaming. She watched as Lucifer sat on the corner of Dan's desk, handing over the coffee and striking up a conversation.

It was weird to see the two of them interact so casually. The strained teasing that usually marred their conversations of late was lacking, even when Lucifer began to heckle Dan, picking up the other man's bobble heads and miming breaking their little plastic necks.

Chloe felt the loss of Lucifer then, a dragging weight in her stomach. She tried to shake off the feeling. When had she become so needy? Lucifer was always abandoning her in the precinct when the action died down. This behavior was normal for him.

She returned to her desk, disappointed to find the Turner case file had yet to be delivered. It seemed even Lucifer's sphere of influence had limits - not even the notoriously slow LA court system would yield to him.

Having been prepared to face the next few hours alone, she was surprised when Lucifer soon returned to her side. For the remainder of the morning, he bounced between her and Dan, keeping both suitably busy with his antics. He also shared case information between them, meaning the two of them did not have to directly interact. The unconventional set up worked, though Chloe noticed Lucifer tended to spend far more time plastered to her side. Even when he was with Dan, he kept an eye on her.

If it had been anyone else, she probably would have become annoyed with the behavior. She didn't need a babysitter. But Lucifer looked happy, proud even, as he balanced the two of them. Around eleven, lemon bars appeared at her elbow. Dan too received a gift. Pudding. And not the grocery store kind. Lucifer had given him something that looked like it'd come fresh from a bakery.

Okay, maybe Lucifer was a bit of a coddler. Who knew?

"You know, you don't have to keep bouncing around," she told him the next time he appeared at her elbow. "We can all work together to solve our case. That's what's important right now."

"Nonsense. You won't go near Daniel." He sat on the edge of her desk, nearly knocking over her small potted plant.

"Oh? And why is that?"

Lucifer crossed his arms. "Because it would upset you and that is something I simply cannot condone."

"Lucifer, I can handle talking to Dan for five minutes, alright?"

"But that would cause you unnecessary duress!" he protested.

"So what am I supposed to do? Never talk to Dan again?" she asked dryly.

His eyes lit up. "An excellent plan! I'll act as a go between for you two for the foreseeable future." He clapped his hands together, sliding off her desk. "Right, now that that's settled I'll-"

"I wasn't being serious!" She grabbed the back of his jacket before he could prance off. "Listen, it's nice of you to offer but Dan and I need to actually talk to each other at some point during this case. After this one, I'll speak to Monroe and have Dan assigned to someone else. But right now… right now, things are going to have to be a bit awkward."

"But you don't _want_ to talk to him!" Lucifer said, awkwardly turned to face her as she still hung into him.

She sighed, releasing his jacket and smoothing the fabric. "Life can't always be about what you want."

He stared at her. "That's not what you said yesterday. At the cheap motel, you went on and on about how important wants were."

She had hadn't she. This was different though, couldn't he see that?

"Yes but this is about work. A girl is dead and my personal feelings shouldn't interfere with getting her and her family the justice they deserve."

"So life is only about wants when it's convenient? What utter rubbish!"

"I can't have this conversation with you right now," she groaned, wishing she'd just let him do whatever the hell he wanted. She was not in the mood to teach him the finer details of compromise - something he apparently had never done before. "This is a sacrifice I have to make."

"No, you don't. You can do what you bloody well want. Free will, remember?"

"Lucifer, I'm sorry, but you don't know the first thing about divorce-"

"Yes, I do," he said, almost defiantly, and she remembered what he'd shared with her, about his father kicking his mother out of the house.

"I… this is different."

"How?"

She couldn't say it. Of course it was different, her and Dan had, possibly still did, love each other. Lucifer's parents sounded about as out of love as one could get. Deliberately using their children against one another wasn't something people did. It was sickening.

But did Lucifer know that? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, there wasn't any point in bringing up such a sensitive topic just to kick him in the gut with yet another reminder of how screwed up his family was. He did that often enough all on his own.

She took a deep breath, debating how far she wanted to take this particular topic. "Having free will doesn't mean I get to duck my responsibilities when life gets hard."

Lucifer grinned at 'gets hard' but it lacked its usual brilliance, the expression no more than a mechanical response, almost brittle. "I'm not saying you should give up this case. I'm merely offering an alternative."

"Which can and will compromise our work."

"I don't want for you to talk to Daniel either," he said suddenly, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Excuse me?" she asked, temper flaring.

"You lied before, when you said you were fine." His eyes bore into her, challenging. "I detest liars on principle but I especially loathe when someone is coerced into lying as part of some attempt to" - he ran a hand through his hair, pulling a few pieces loose - "maintain pretenses. You're too good for that!"

Coerced? He made it sound like she was giving into the wishes of someone else. As if she couldn't make her own decisions.

"I don't need you to protect me!"

"No, you don't," he said, far milder than she's expected, though a shadow of hurt, swift as a whip, flicked across his features.

"I just need you to back off a bit, alright? I can't deal with all of this right now." She leaned back in her chair as exhaustion pummeled her. "I'm so thankful for what you did for me, for both of us, last night, but this is something Dan and I have to handle on our own," her tone gentled. "You can't fix this. Everything will heal with time."

Lucifer's jaw tightened, disagreement written in every harsh line of his face. "Time, Detective, heals _nothing_."

She faltered. Sometimes Lucifer would say something like this and an ancient wisdom would leak from him, as if he was indeed the timeless force he often claimed to be. He was so sure of himself and that confidence caused her to stutter, a student trying to lecture a professor.

She tried to think of something to say, a way to break the stalemate they'd somehow become embroiled in. A muted ringing noise was her salvation. Digging into her purse, she checked her phone's caller ID.

"Excuse me," she said, standing and walking in the direction of the bathroom. "I have to take this."

The women's room was deserted when she entered. Tapping to accept the call, she locked herself in a stall.

"Mom?"

"Chloe!" Penelope's voice reached her through crackling static and various other background noises. "I just got your message. I was at a con this morning and you know how fans get. Can't use your phone without everyone thinking you're uninterested in them."

"It's fine. Really." Hearing her mom, even if it was her complaining about the 'unwanted' attention she received at cons, was soothing in its familiarity.

"So, what did you want to talk about? Your message sounded serious."

"I...we…" And there, sitting on a chipped closed toilet seat, Chloe burst into tears.

"Honey? Are you alright? What's happening?"

She sucked in a massive breath, a hand braced against the stall wall to steady herself. Her equilibrium had abruptly abandoned her and with it, she had lost her armor.

"Dan a-and I," she hiccuped. "We're ge-ge-getting divorced."

* * *

Lucifer waited by Chloe's desk, resisting the temptation to tap his foot or fiddle with his ring. She'd been in the restroom an awful long time - and who took calls on the toilet anyway?

He took an indecisive step forwards and halted again. Had she gone into the women's room to avoid him? That was preposterous. Surely she knew that wouldn't stop him.

To hell with it, he decided, striding towards the restroom door. The worst that could happen was she'd yell at him. Again.

Without preamble, he pulled open the door, peering inside. His nose wrinkled at the sight of pink colored stalls clashing with the grey tiled floor. Who had designed this place? Were they color blind?

Only one stall door was closed and he made for it, his loafers squeaking on the damp floor. "Detective?" he asked, knocking.

There was a squeak of surprise and the sound of something dense clattering on the floor.

"Lucifer? What the hell are you doing in here? Get out!"

He stepped back, leaning against the row of sinks. "You were taking a long time so I came to check on you."

"Do you have any idea how many boundaries this crosses!" There was a rustle of fabric and then a trumpet as she blew her nose.

He frowned at how thick her voice was. "Detective, are you crying?"

The realization was a slap. Chloe wasn't given to emotional displays, especially in public. That odd sense he was intruding washed over him. He wasn't supposed to hear this, knew _she_ wouldn't want him to. Leaving though, he couldn't do that either, not while she was so pained.

Besides, she would, and had, done the same for him.

"Get. Out."

Right, message received. And ignored. Pulling out a somewhat bent box of cigarettes, he lit one, inhaling deeply.

More rustles from the stall. "Are you seriously smoking in here?"

"Yes."

"This is a _police precinct_."

"I am aware." He took another long drag. "Usually I'd go outside but under the circumstances…"

"And what circumstances are those?"

"Well," he crossed his feet at the ankles, "it would be indecent of me to simply leave you on your own to cry."

"I _wasn't_ crying."

"I know when people are lying to me. Would you prefer my pocket chief? It's silk, much softer than that two ply toilet paper the department insists on buying. It's a wonder I haven't gotten any splinters from using it."

A heartbeat of silence and then, "Fine, gimme."

Chloe's hand appeared over the top of the stall door and Lucifer handed over the scrap of fabric. He winced at the sound of more nose blowing. What a shame, he'd been rather fond of that design. That was two pocket chiefs he'd sacrificed now for the greater good. Was he ill? All these good deeds certainly couldn't be healthy.

The stall door creaked open and Chloe came out, cheeks flushed and tracked with tears. Wordlessly, Lucifer turned on the faucet for her, changing it to the coldest setting. He politely turned away, examining the No Smoking sign on the far wall while she cleaned her face. Only when he heard the water shut off did he turn back around.

"So," he drawled, cigarette nearly spent, "you're fine, huh?"

"Lucifer-"

"I was just making an observation."

Chloe stayed as she was, hands braced on either side of the sink. "Okay, I'm not fine. Happy?"

"Hardly."

And he wasn't, not the slightest bit. If it wasn't for the fact Dan was so evidently suffering as well, Lucifer probably would have punched him by now for causing Chloe such duress. He hated the way she drew into herself a bit more every time she caught sight of Dan or heard his name. It wasn't fair. Worse, there was no one to blame.

Lucifer had never seen such a situation before, where there was no clear guilty party. It didn't sit right with him. How could two people both be at fault? That wasn't how the world was supposed to work. The guilty went to Hell. The rest were tossed up to Heaven. There was balance in that - a victim and an assailant.

Watching both Dan and Chloe succumb to their guilt had worried him. He'd bounced between them, trying to keep both afloat, like a mother cat watching over two rambunctious kittens. It was dreadfully ironic, really. In Hell, guilt had made the whole torture process fun. On Earth, he feared that same emotion, feared the power it held over those humans he'd become close to. Any one of them could slip off the edge of the ice with nary a push and he wouldn't be able to save them from drowning.

"I'm completely overwhelmed." Her head hung so low, he couldn't make out her expression. "I just told my mom about everything and now she's flying back here. She kept saying we could _fix_ things, like Dan and I just had a fight or something. And Trixie doesn't know yet. When am I supposed to tell her? Now? After the lawyer finalizing things? And _how_? Not to mention, I'll have to tell HR and the Lieutenant and then everyone will know. Dan has friends here but I don't, not really. It's still a boy's club out there."

Lucifer turned all that over in his head. "You have friends here," he said quietly. "Let everyone think what they want of you. It won't change things. You'll still be the detective with the highest solve rate… and the sexiest partner. Besides, you have the Devil on your side. No-one will dare say a word against you."

"I don't care so much about work. I mean, I'm used to being on the outs thanks to Hot Tub High School. But I'm really worried about Trixie." She hesitated, pushing herself up straight. "When your parents split, did they talk to you and your siblings? I don't even know how to begin that conversation…"

He wasn't prepared for the question but there was a silent plea in her eyes. She was desperate for an answer, he realized.

"I'm not really the one to ask. I was long gone by the time they split. My siblings would know more. I would ask one of the more tolerable ones but…" he grimaced, "most of them make it a habit to avoid me."

"I'm sorry."

"You really must stop apologizing on their behalf. They neither deserve it nor do I want it."

"I'm not - nevermind. We'll talk about that later." She checked her reflection. "Me and Dan will tell Trixie together, I guess. She's used to the idea of us being separated. Maybe the divorce won't be so hard on her. Nothing's technically changing, for her at least. We already alternate weekends and pick up days."

"The urchin is certainly resilient."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

He didn't understand what she meant but he had had the feeling he wasn't supposed to. Chloe seemed a bit off in her own world.

"You know, I think you should go home early today," she said.

"Why? Aren't we to have the interview with the Turner boy's parents?"

"By the time we get the case file, it'll be too late. Besides, I think I might have that talk with Monroe today. We can't really progress further on the case. I'll call you if something changes."

He was torn. He'd much rather stay with her but he sensed she wanted space and was trying to be polite about it.

"I wasn't present for Lux's grand reopening and should make an appearance tonight so I suppose leaving early is ideal." When had he grown to be so accommodating? "Oh, my phone was set up! I'll text you so you can save my number."

She smiled. "Yeah, that'll be good. Now let's get out of here before someone sees us and makes an assumption."

"Darling, it's true I've had sex in many places but a public restroom?"

"What, you're shy?" she teased, pushing open the door and looking around before gesturing they were in the clear.

He huffed. "Hardly. All those grimy surfaces. There's no guarantee anything's been cleaned properly!"

"You know, you're a bit of a germaphobe. No public transport, you checked our motel room for mold."

"I admit, my immortality has been a bit inconsistent of late. There's no need to find out whether or that extends to human diseases."

Chloe dropped into her seat. "I bet you're one of those jerks who's never gotten the flu before."

"I don't see how being immune to the flu makes me a jerk!" He hovered beside her, not wanting to leave.

His dilemma didn't go unnoticed. Chloe smiled at him, almost sadly.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Right, yes, tomorrow." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Good afternoon, Detective."

"So long," she called as he retreated to the elevators.

The drive back to Lux was unusually quiet. He didn't blast his music as was typical of him. Nor did he lay on the horn at every opportunity. Instead, he wondered about Dan and Chloe.

Had his own parents been so heartbroken after the split? Somehow, he didn't think so. There had been so much anger between them. A furious, fiery rage capable of shaking mountains. It was either they separated or killed one another. Two beings of creation, who had never been tied down or limited by rules, fed by such ego and power… it never would've ended nicely.

He pulled into the parking garage beneath his building, noting the red Porsche Cayman was back in its usual spot. So Maze had returned. Good. She never had checked in with him about his wings. The ache from yesterday had all but disappeared but if she'd solved the problem, surely she would've called.

Unless she'd gone out to celebrate and was only now sober enough to crawl back home.

Taking the elevator to his penthouse, the first thing he saw when the doors opened was indeed Maze. She was standing rigid, arms crossed and scowl in place. How was it possible she was angry with him already?

"Mazikeen, how wonderful of you to drop in-"

"We need to talk."

"Oh? Isn't that what we're doing?" He wandered behind the bar, looking for something to drink. Whiskey was all well and good but he wanted a bit more of a kick today.

"I'm serious," and, in an uncharacteristic mood that had him on full alert, she took a deep breath and dropped into a nearly subservient tone. "I know what happened to your wings."

He abandoned his search, rounding the bar. "Well don't keep me in suspense."

She looked to him then with a terrible expression. Grief, regret, and maybe even a bit of fear fought in her eyes. It didn't suit her.

"I have to start at the beginning, when Amenadiel trashed the bar two weeks ago."

Her hesitant manner was grating on him, fraying his nerves. "Mazikeen, speak," he ordered. "_What happened_."

"Me and Amenadiel made a plan that day, a plan to force you back to Hell."

And just like that, the floor dropped from beneath his feet.


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N - TRIGGER WARNING - This is the darkest chapter to date and thus deals with several topics which some of you may feel uncomfortable reading about. If you have issues with implications of suicide, descriptive torture, or characters being pinned down against their will, I suggest skipping this chapter entirely aside from the italicized portion in the beginning_

_Despite the darkness, this isn't angst for the sake of. If someone feels uncomfortable though and still wishes to read the chapter, I will write a watered down version for those individuals so they too can enjoy the narrative._

_This may not be as dark as other pieces on the site but I feel responsible in making sure everyone is properly prepared in advance so no one suffers duress. My writing has never and will never be used to hurt anyone else in this way._

_Special thank you to the-darker-side-of-things, Psychic101, JayeMaru, OldGirl-NoraArlani, MCorin, Verge of Chaos, Patougv, and Zoey McCully for reviewing the last chapter._

_I hope you enjoy._

**Chapter Seventeen - Best of You**

_Lucifer had yet to have grown accustomed to the constant screaming in Hell. Every shout had him sitting up in bed, alert, prepared for danger. His nerves had long been rubbed raw. Now they were tender as scabbed over skin, every small sound grating on his paranoid mind._

_Yesterday [or had it been two days ago? Time moved differently and without his stars, he had no way of truly knowing the passage of time] he'd put down yet another demon rebellion. It had taken hours of meticulous cleaning to pick the chunks of flesh from beneath his fingernails, to expunge the blood from his hands and face. Surely he should be used to it by now, used to the gore and violence, used to the _death_._

_He whined to himself on his bed as yet another endless wail of blind terror echoed around him. He missed his brothers and sisters, even Amenadiel. Where were they? Surely they couldn't maintain their anger towards him forever, right? Someone, Gabriel maybe, would come and get him soon. He didn't belong here._

_Drawing his knees to his chest, he instinctively unfurled his wings and wrapped them around himself, ignoring the pain from still burned skin. The damage done from the Lake of Fire had taken far longer to heal than any other injury he'd ever had. Only now, decades - or was it a century now? - later were the last of his feathers growing in again._

_For a few minutes, the wing cocoon was soothing. He petted his own feathers mindlessly, imaging they were his siblings' hands instead. All too soon, pinpricks of irritation made themselves known amongst the feathers. The bloody ash!_

_Shaking his wings only dislodged a few particles, the remainders now painfully itchy. Scratching at what he could reach, he resisted simply hiding his wings again. In lieu of his family, the two feathered appendages were all he had. The itching, now expanded to a biting pain, proved too much for him and he regretfully folded them away, the loss of divinity sucker punching him in the gut._

_Yet another scream came from somewhere beyond the tower he inhabited and he jerked to his feet, tension riddling his body. The obsidian stone floor beneath his feet was warm, as was everything in Hell, and he padded around the circular room, barefoot. All but one of the windows were blocked by ragged woolen blankets in a desperate attempt to ward off Hell and the ash. His eyesight was good enough for the murky half-darkness, not that it made much difference. There was nothing to look at anyway._

_Finishing his third rotation around the room, he knew sleep would not be returning to him. Angels didn't require much sleep in general but it felt as if he'd been awake ever since the Fall. His eyes ached with exhaustion, his legs trembled with fatigue. He was worn, stripped bare by so many years constantly on alert, never allowed to truly rest for more than a moment. The demons were beginning to finally respect him but it had been slow going. Perhaps in another century, they would accept him as their king, but so many still openly opposed his rule._

_He shivered, cold despite the heat._

_He'd burned the remains of his heavenly robes long ago and was now forced to steal clothes off the corpses of demons. As most demons were built rather differently than he - there was a whole subspecies with three arms - finding anything that fit him was an impossible task. He intended to go to Earth sometime soon. From what he'd seen in the Hell Loops of some humans, clothes were developing rapidly on the planet. Granted, the styles were a bit strange but anything beat blood-stained hides at the moment._

_He approached the bed, wrapping his naked form in his bed blanket. Definitely not scary but only a scarce few demons were allowed in his tower anyway so it was doubtful anyone would see him. Trotting to the stone door, he eased it open to reveal a tight spiral staircase._

_He descended cautiously, a hand on the wall guiding him. He came across more small landings, each fitted with a door, but ignored them. Most of the rooms were empty anyway. He supposed, sometime in the future, he'd be able to fill them with more loyal demons but that was eons off yet._

_The first signs of habitation came as he neared the base of the tower. The spiral stairs were wider here, a few lit torches placed irregularly on the walls. He slipped through the patches of light, favoring the shadows in between._

_He wasn't sure what his plan was, if there was indeed one at all. All he knew was he couldn't stay in his room a moment longer, listening to the wails and clanking of chains. _

_His steps faltered as he reached the ground level. Here, two doors stood impassive. One led outside into the field of Hell Loops and the other…_

_He looked uncertainly between them. Neither were favorable options but then again, his life had become one long stretch of simply enduring. He hadn't indulged in a want since crashing into Hell. So what did it matter then if his choices were bad and worse? Those were his only two options in everything._

_The door to his right creaked open and he jolted, just managing to keep his wings furled. He hated when they popped out without his permission, all puffed up and defensive._

_A head appeared. "My King? Is something wrong?"_

_Swallowing back his emotions, he put up the cold front his demons were accustomed to seeing. Standing straight, and hoping he looked at least a bit menacing in his blanket, he adopted a look of flat disinterest._

"_Nothing. Return to your rooms." He hoped his tone came off as authoritative. In Heaven, he hadn't been a leader, furthest thing from, actually. He knew how to use violence to inspire fear but loyalty? That was another matter entirely._

_The demon crept out fully into the light and he averted his gaze from the damaged half of her face. Of all the demons he'd come across, this one was the most human in terms of physical appearance. Mazikeen, they called her. What a vexing name. But certainly better than his messenger, who'd had the unfortunate luck of being named Thamp._

_He realized, belatedly, that Mazikeen had not followed his orders. There was no option, he would have to punish her for it. He couldn't let up, never. Every slight disobedience was met with whips and flaying sessions. Ruling through fear was the easiest way to keep Hell in control but he often wondered about the long term cost to himself. Would he, too, one day lose his soul?_

"_Mazikeen, I said return to your rooms." Repeating an order was rare for him but he couldn't bring himself to spill more blood. Not tonight._

_She paused a few feet from him, wavering. "My King, something's wrong. I can tell. I know-"_

"_You know nothing!" he growled, holding on tighter to his blanket._

"_Then why are you wandering around down here?"_

_Such insolence! Questioning him about his behaviors. He didn't answer to her._

_The threat of punishment was on his tongue but he choked it back as his hidden wings twitched in discomfort. He looked over his shoulder out of habit, still not used to keeping his wings furled for long stretches of time. In Heaven angels spent a majority of their time with their wings out._

_Flexing his back in a vain attempt to ease the burning itch, he returned his focus to the rebellious demon. "You do not question me. Is that understood?"_

_Something had changed in Mazikeen's good eye. She looked almost hungry as she sidled up to him, a hand reached out to brush against his blanket._

"_I think you need a distraction," she whispered as her fingers pressed through the seam of the blanket, grazing against his bare skin in a deceptively gentle gesture that he knew from experience could turn painful quickly._

_They'd done this a few times, though, Lucifer wasn't sure how he liked it. Of course, in the moment, the sex was incredible - the biting and sucking, the pushing and pulling. But later on, he always felt tarnished in a way. That didn't stop him from desiring more of that strange mix of pleasure and pain. _

_For a moment, he allowed her hands to explore, caressing and scratching hard across his chest, down his stomach. He wanted to enjoy the sensations but his wings continued to burn with more and more fury. Something had to be done._

"_Stop," he said, catching her hand in his and removing it._

_Mazikeen raised a brow but said nothing, instead stepping away to survey him._

"_You swore an oath when we first met. You swore to protect me, to follow me, to be an extension of all I was," he said, resisting the urge to rub his back raw on the stone wall._

"_I did."_

"_And you similarly swore to never harm me."_

_She smirked. "Not without your permission."_

_The teasing didn't sit right with him, not when he was so over the top paranoid. "_Did _you swear it?" he snarled._

_Her mirth was quickly lost. "Yes, my King, I did."_

"_Then I have a task for you."_

_She perked up a bit at that. "Do you want me to torture a special soul?" _

_He resisted rolling his eyes in exasperation. Was pain and violence all demons thought about? No, he supposed, they also thought quite a bit about sex - painful and violent sex, as it so happened._

"_No, nothing like that." He hesitated one last time, weighing his nonexistent options. "I need help with my wings."_

_At this, Mazikeen looked openly curious. "Your wings," she repeated. "Were they injured?"_

"_Hardly. No, they've got ash in them."_

"_Oh."_

"_It's uncomfortable."_

"_I believe you."_

_Was it just him or was she laughing at him?_

"_I need to get the ash out and I can't do it on my own," he said._

_Mazikeen lost some of her glee. "I have to _touch _them? Touch something of divinity?"_

"_I'm made of divinity too and that's never stopped you from touching _me_," he growled. This was really getting painful. _

"_Fine. What am I to do?"_

_In response, Lucifer strode past and into her room. The features were as bleak as his, lacking even something as basic as a chair. Oh well, he'd stand then. No way was he laying down for this. Mazikeen might be the only demon he could stand to be near but he hardly trusted her. True, she fought by his side during the larger rebellions but he knew her fascination in him was fed by the promise of violence._

_She was the only one who could do this for him, though. And despite his deep misgivings, a fundamental part of his brain demanding he protect his wings, there was no way he would be able to remedy the situation on his own. _

_Shrugging off his blanket, he let his wings unfurl. For a moment, just the simple act eased the pinpricks of pain. He stretched the wings fully, tips touching either wall, before drawing them back to a resting position. Mazikeen stood in the doorway, arms crossed as she watched him. _

_He gestured her over, directing her so she stood in front of him. His feathers ruffled, massive primaries turned sharp and lethal at her approach. He forced them down into their softer state, though his mind was screaming for him to maintain a defensive position._

_Maze kept her distance, face caught somewhere between disgust and awe. Her good eye glittered, the light of his divinity reflecting off the dark hue._

"_Watch," he commanded, reaching for the inside of his left wing and running his fingers through the feathers. "You don't pull, just let the feathers slide through your hand."_

_Already, he could feel the itch lessening where he was stroking, blunt fingernails scratching at irritated skin. He repeated the gesture a few times, then nodded for Maze to try._

_She approached him with caution, eye trained on his primaries. He couldn't fault her hesitation. How often had she seen him slice demons in half with his wings? They were weapons - and there were few things Mazikeen knew better than weapons._

_Setting her hands beside his, she pressed her fingers into his feather. He jolted, wing drawing back, and she immediately withdrew her hands._

"_What happened?" she asked._

_He shook himself. "Don't prod like that. Just… just stroke them."_

_Her gaze wandered down to his hips. "Like I stroke you?"_

_He shuddered. "Absolutely not. Be gentle, like you would with a" - he cast around desperately for something a demon would be nice to - "like you would with a human liver you just tore out."_

"_Oh, I get it!" She returned her hands to his feathers, her touch noticeably softer. "Like this?"_

"_I… _yes_," he groaned in relief. "Just like that."_

_The feeling was simply sublime, his feather fluffing in silent appreciation as sharp nails dislodged all the ash and dirt he'd steadily accumulated since the Fall. Yet, for all the relief her action wrought, a rock was lodged in his chest, pressing against his lungs. It should be his siblings doing this, not a demon._

_He closed his eyes, unable to watch Mazikeen. Without sight, he tried to pretend it was Azrael or Gabriel's hands caring for his wings. But the scent of brimstone stung his nose. The snap of whips crackled in the air. The rough spun blanket pooled at his feet was ragged and threadbare against his toes._

_Mazikeen finished the front of one wing, moving to the other. He tracked her through slitted eyes, his apprehension mostly lost. Demons weren't known for their patience and if Maze had intended to attack him, she surely would've done it by now._

_The room was mostly silent as Mazikeen worked, which surprised him some. He'd expected all sorts of comments from the sharp tongued demon. When he studied her though, all he saw was reverence in her gaze. Not for the wings themselves, but for him, he realized. And why wouldn't she feel that way? He'd bestowed upon her a sacred task. He wasn't sure what that meant for the demon, if she could ever fully understand the trust he was placing in her, but nonetheless, she was loyal._

_By the time she finished the front of his wings, Lucifer could hardly keep his eyes open. A deep sense of contentment, one which warmed his very bones, had settled through him. Stripped of the tension, the facades and masks he wore, he felt at peace in a way he'd thought unobtainable in Hell._

_Mazikeen was waiting for him to give her a new set of orders, one of her hands still absently petting his feathers. He was in no hurry though. Instead, he lost himself in the simple feeling of being cared for. It was deceitful - she was only cleaning his wings because he'd ordered it - but Lucifer had spent the last century bluffing._

_Fortunately, most of his bluffs had become truths. Torturing souls no longer made his stomach roll. Killing demons no longer gave him pause. Being alone no longer hurt. Or at least, not in the way it had in the beginning. This was just one more bluff._

"_Do the back now," he murmured, lids heavy._

_Mazikeen tweaked a feather, watching him. "Are you gonna pass out or something? You look weird."_

"_I'm fine." He flexed his feet, waking himself up. "Continue."_

_She complied and before long, he was back to dozing on his feet, head lolling forward. The sounds of Hell were usually quieter in the lower levels of the tower but now he could hear nothing but the rustle of his wings. Twice he caught himself leaning to the side, jerking awake in a flurry of shuffling feet as he regained his balance. Exhaustion was hitting him full force._

_Mazikeen wasn't quite finished with his wings yet but standing had become an insurmountable task. He staggered away from her, head thick and cottony. Ignoring her protests, he made for the demon's bed, collapsing face first onto the thin blankets. Nothing about the set up was comfortable, or even passable, but he refused to move, sleep already tugging at his mind._

_He just remembered to furl his wings, not wanting them to grow dirty again, and rolled onto his side with a deep sigh._

"_So you're just gonna-" Mazikeen let the question hang._

_He stifled a yawn. "You have a stupid name," he muttered._

"_What?"_

"_Mazikeen… it's much too long. I don't like it."_

"_And what, my King, would you prefer?"_

_He pushed at the blankets beside him, creating a rough little nest around his curled form. "Maze."_

"_Maze?"_

"_Uh huh. My demon… Maze," he slurred._

* * *

"_Me and Amenadiel made a plan that day, a plan to force you back to Hell." _

It hurt.

More than rage or surprise or even manic glee, there was so much _hurt_.

It started as a dull throb in his chest, spider-webbing outwards. Thoughts whirled though his mind, strangely detached in the way he so clinically shifted through them. Disbelief. Betrayal. Mirth. Loss. He couldn't settle on just one, his chest drowning with too many emotions. It was too much for a single body to feel, too much to contain.

Maze still stood before him, watching apprehensively. He looked away, eyes skittering across the room as they sought anything else to focus on. A flash of red had him zeroing in on a mirror on his bookshelf, only to be greeted with his own reflection.

Lucifer was familiar with his Devil eyes but this was a different level entirely. More than red, molten lava seemed to swirl around his pupils, streaks of orange piercing the crimson. They were nearly glowing, throwing off enough light to faintly illuminate his skin red, like he was wearing the lightest brush of eye-shadow.

Blood rushed in his ears, his initial shock settling into raw fury. He didn't shy away from the emotion, instead allowing it to bathe him, to burn away his hurt until all that remained was unbridled rage.

"Start from the beginning," he ordered, but it wasn't his voice. That echoing growl rumbling deep in his chest belonged to the Devil.

Maze took an involuntary step back and that brought him some satisfaction. How often she'd berated and mocked him, proclaiming he'd grown soft during his stay on Earth. No more. She wanted the Devil? Here he was.

"I said, _spea_k!" he thundered, the temperature rising as his anger soared.

Maze bowed her head, a slight submission. "When Amenadiel came that first day, he and I talked." She spoke with rapid efficiency, as he'd demanded of all his demon while in Hell. "We decided on a plan to force you back to Hell. He trashed the club to make it look as if there had been a fight."

He held up a hand. "Your wounds were self inflicted?"

She nodded and, in spite of the Hellfire rushing through his veins, that wave of icy pain threatened to consume him again. He'd been terrified when he'd found her on the floor amongst the wreckage of the club, covered in blood and bruises. He had threatened to kill Amenadiel to protect her. But it was a lie. All of it. His affection for Maze had been used against him, the weakness cracking open his shell so he could be gutted.

"Continue," he said, the fire and ice waging war beneath his breast.

"I told him where your wings were stored and in exchange, he said he'd take me back to Hell."

"You meant to trade my wings like some… some cheap trinket?" His vision reddened.

There was a flash of defiance but Maze reeled herself in quickly, knowing better than to test him. "You left them in a shipping container in a dirty warehouse. I didn't think you'd be too upset to see them gone."

It was a bluff. Maze knew better than anyone the complicated relationship he had with his severed appendages.

"I do _not_ find your sarcasm amusing." His skin was confining, muscles rippling in a vain attempt to unstitch him. "Where are the wings now?"

Maze couldn't have… Amenadiel wouldn't _dare_…

"Gone," she said simply.

"Gone _where_?" he snarled.

And, finally, something approaching shame graced Maze's features. "Amenadiel has them but I don't know where he is. I can't pick up a trail."

"When," he managed from behind gritted teeth. "When did they go missing."

"Four nights ago."

The sentence hung suspended in the air, an almost physical barrier between them. Four nights? That would've been the time he spent on the Detective's couch while watching her offspring. He'd come home that evening. Maze had talked to him. They'd played the piano together. He'd thought things were getting better. He'd thought things were fixing themselves.

He'd thought.

He'd thought.

He'd thought…

With a roar that tore at his throat, he picked up a tumbler and hurled it across the room. The glass hit the far wall, shattering into a fine mist of sparkling shards.

"Lucifer-"

"If you utter so much as a sigh, so help me…" he let the threat sit, too keyed up to even finish the statement.

His wings were gone. Vanished. Disappeared. What had Amenadiel done to them? Was this the cause of his back pain? It'd felt like the wings were dying but surely his brother would never harm them.

Maze, for once, was heeding him and remaining absolutely silent. He found even this aggravating though. How could she have done this to him? After everything they'd been through. The wars. The long stretches of shaky peace. She had been his only confidant for an endless number of centuries, as constant as the rocky fixtures of Hell.

If she were any other demon, he'd destroy her. He'd killed plenty of her kind for far less. A wayward look. A hesitation before bowing. A whisper of disagreement.

Maze was so much more than that though and even as a part of him contemplated wringing her neck, another, deeper, part was crying with an unimaginable anguish.

He turned away, stalking to the bar and picking a bottle at random. His back to Maze, he allowed himself a moment of weakness, anger melting away as he was plunged into an icy pool of despair. The feeling crept up and up, lapping at every part of him until he swore his hands and feet were numb, submerged in ice cubes.

His chest heaved with loss, one he was all too familiar with. An old, festering wound in his chest burst open, oozing anew.

_Why did this keep happening to him? _

He almost dropped his bottle, fingers shaking. His siblings, his parents, Maze… where would it end? Would Linda abandon him one day? Or Dan?

Would Chloe?

His hand spasmed, bottle slipping free and breaking on the floor, soaking his loafers. He stared down at the mess uncomprehendingly, socks growing waterlogged.

"What does Amenadiel intend to do with the wings?" His voice had lost its furious edge and now it was flat, even his accent subdued.

"He said he was going to give some of your feathers to humans and create chaos. He wanted to force your hand, make it so you had no choice but to reclaim your wings."

Sacrificing humans? That didn't sound much like Amenadiel. Then again, what did he know? It'd been eons since his siblings and he had gotten on. Everything could be different now. Maybe Gabriel had finally grown serious and stopped mucking about. Azrael surely had a bit more confidence to her. Michael must've -

He stopped that particular train of thought cold.

His moment was up. Time to bring back the Devil. Summoning the rage, he pushed at the ice dragging him down, locking the hurt and other unnecessary emotions in a scalding cage to hopefully deal with never.

He turned back to Maze, expression honed. "So my feathers are," he waved a hand, "fluttering around the city?"

"If it's any consolation, no one's been hospitalized with symptoms of exposure to divinity. I checked."

"Oh right, brilliant! Everything's fine then."

He was vaguely aware he wasn't being fair but fairness wasn't something Maze deserved. Was he supposed to give her a bloody cookie because her plan had failed? The fact no humans had yet been struck with a case of gibberish didn't mean it wouldn't happen tomorrow or the next day. How many feathers had Amenadiel even put into circulation?

That day he'd come home from the beach… he'd smelled divinity. Just a whiff, barely noticeable through the car exhaust and stifling humidity. He hadn't believed it - hadn't _wanted_ to. After spending an entire day with Chloe and the spawn, he'd chosen to ignore the warning signs, wanting the innocence of a day at the beach to last just a few hours more. It had been a stupid error, one which now coming back to royaly bite him on the ass.

"I put some people on it," Maze said, either unaware or uncaring of his rapidly diminishing mood. "If something happens, I'll know about it."

"It shouldn't have happened in the first place!" he glared. "Have you at least tried to track the feathers?"

"Why would I? So a few humans go insane, what's the harm?"

"Do you really think the humans will be content with only a few feathers? They'll crave more, Mazikeen. The urge will eat them alive! They'll start killing one another!"

She crossed her arms, shrugging. "And? They do that anyway. Who cares if a few humans die? It's just a few feath-"

"BECAUSE THEY'RE MINE!" He screamed so loudly, even Maze jumped. "Those are _my_ wings causing humans to fight and kill. That's _not_ what I do and it's _not_ what I stand for!" He gripped the bar top, the marble crumbling in his grasp like a granola bar. "I punish evil, not the innocent. These humans, they've done nothing wrong!"

Maze winced. "I have a few leads. Your brother doesn't buy much and he doesn't have credit cards but I found a few places where he's made purchases. He keeps a low profile."

He knew this behavior, her eagerness to please to make up for her mistake. This was no mere mistake she'd made, though. A betrayal of this magnitude, it was nearly unforgivable.

"Leads? Take me to them." Even if he was furious, he was competent enough to not disregard any information she'd collected.

"What, like now?"

"Yes now!" He looked down at his trousers, splattered by alcohol. "After I change. Collect your weapons, we're going hunting."

"I can do this on my own," she said, following him as he strode off towards his closet. "Let me do this and prove myself-"

"I don't trust you," he said shortly, reaching for the first suit he came across. Stripping off his ruined clothes, he shrugged into the new ensemble. "I will be accompanying you on all outings until we find Amenadiel and after… well, things are going to be changing."

"Change?"

He didn't answer, pretending to fuss with his shirt collar. His hands were still shaking with all he was repressing, fingers yearning to wrap around her throat and squeeze. To punish.

"Mazikeen, I recommend not questioning me." He stared at her reflection as he faced the mirror and double checked his pocket square.

She scowled back at him. "Things have been changing for a while, I just wanted clarification. By change, did you mean you'll stop sulking?"

He whipped around, snarling.

Maze wasn't impressed. "Or did you mean you're going to take yourself seriously? For three months you've padded after that blonde bitch detective-"

Lucifer wasn't quite aware he moved. He felt his feet press against the floor, the rush of air by his ears, but the motion itself was not something he explicitly ordered his brain to do. And then he was chest to chest with Maze, one of his hands wrapped around that slender throat with too much pressure to be construed as anything other than a real threat. The fire died out of the demon's eyes and he pressed harder, crowding her with his larger form.

He dipped his head, lips against the shell of her ear. "If you _ever _insult the Detective in my presence again, I'll rip out your tongue." His fingers bit into her skin, the delicate pulse beneath his hand speeding up. "Is that understood?"

Maze, devoid of air, nodded her assent and he leaned back, not yet releasing her.

"It may not be in your nature, but I advise you, for once, exercise extreme caution and deliberate your choice of words." He withdrew his hand, taking a step back. "You were right, I have become soft. Not with the humans, but with you. And it hasn't escaped my notice you've taken clear advantage of that fact. A barb here or there, an insult, I can handle that. A purposeful betrayal of my trust? That won't do."

"I wasn't trying to betray you," Maze said, voice cracked and rough. "My job is to protect you, even from yourself. I thought you didn't belong here." She coughed, rubbing her abused neck. Bruises, faint against her dark skin, were beginning to form. "I did it for you."

"By lying to me? By working with Amenadiel to set me up? How is that protecting me!"

"You couldn't see it! The changes, and then your invulnerability stopped working. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not use me!" He kicked out at his rack of shoes, sending them tumbling. "I haven't forgotten that you were promised something as well. Tell me, what was your real motivation, protecting me or getting yourself back to Hell?"

"They were one and the same!"

"No, they weren't!" He didn't have many things to destroy in the closet, which only infuriated him more.

"I-"

"Silence! I don't want to hear your excuses." He stormed out to the main room, collecting his car keys and getting in the elevator.

Maze followed him and they rode down to the parking garage in deafening silence. The doors opened on Lucifer's car collection but he ignored his Corvette, heading to the end of the row. Most of the vehicles here wore dust covers, a testament to how rarely they were used. He slowed, taking his time in choosing what fit his mood. All the while, Maze hovered behind him.

His hand traveled from hood to hood, stroking the cars like they were exceptionally sleek panthers. At the second to last car, he stopped. With a practiced motion, he flipped off the dust cover, revealing a sleek black body and tinted windows.

"We're taking the Phantom?" Maze asked.

He didn't call her out on speaking, folding the cover and laying it on the roof of the next car over. "The convertible is more of a fun car than one for business. Here," he tossed the keys at her feet. "Take me to your leads."

Climbing into the backseat, he folded one leg neatly over the other, tented his fingers, and leaned back against the headrest, eyes slitted. The car dipped as Maze got into the driver's seat, the ignition no more than a purr as she turned the key. The Roll Royce crept out from the parking garage, joining the evening traffic. With a muted road, they shot forwards, sliding between lanes as they weaved.

The harsh lights of Sunset Boulevard soon gave way to the softer glow of residential areas, street lights illuminating the back seat briefly before plunging it into darkness.

"Where are we going?" he asked as Maze took a turn toward South Los Angeles.

"I'm allowed to talk again?" She continued before he had a chance to reprimand her. "A local loan shark claimed your brother had visited him for information."

"Did he mention what kind?"

"About the docks, I think. He wasn't exactly forthcoming over the phone."

"You mean you didn't draw Amenadiel a map to my shipping container?" Despite his mocking tone, he studied her reaction carefully.

Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. "All I told him was the container number. He had to figure out everything else on his own."

"How charitable of you," he drawled, pulling out his flask and draining it in one, continuous swallow.

Maze's dark eyes met his own in the rear view mirror. "I meant it before, I was trying to protect you."

"I already said I'm not interested in your excuses."

"Lucifer, you've found some new toys with humanity, I get that. You think I wouldn't miss Patrick if I left? But they don't know us."

"The Detective knows me," he said, crossing his arms.

She sighed. "She doesn't know the real you, does she? And if she found out, do you really think she'd stick around?"

He opened his mouth to say yes, yes she would stay if she knew he was the Devil. The truth caught up with him, snaring his hopeful mind. His eyes dropped to gaze, unfocused, on his lap. No, she wouldn't. No human would. Not Linda. Not Daniel. And certainly not Chloe.

The remainder of the ride passed without further conversation, Lucifer sinking into his seat, half hoping it would swallow him whole. Or better yet, that alcohol would start to rain from the ceiling.

How much time did he really have? In another ten years, surely someone would notice he wasn't aging. Then what? Would he have to pull up his roots and re-establish himself somewhere else? Fifteen years later, he'd have to repeat the process.

He didn't want to do that. There were humans here that he was growing rather fond of. If he told them the truth though, they'd leave anyway.

He was stuck.

"We're here," Maze announced, pulling to a stop alongside a building that would've looked abandoned if not for the faint gleam of light peeking between boarded up windows.

Lucifer climbed out, assessing the area. Seedy was a bit of an understatement. He'd seen cats smaller than some of the rats scurrying around the sidewalk.

Going to the trunk, he yanked it open and stepped back, allowing Maze to peruse the collection of weapons he kept where the spare tire should have gone.

"The guy's name is Jeremy Slanders," Maze said, pawing through the mess of sharp objects. "He's not the smartest, from what I've heard, but he's sly." She pulled out a sword, feeling its heft before replacing it.

"You said he was a loan shark. What other dealings is he involved in?"

He could do this, play the game. When he'd met Chloe, the favors had stopped and so too had this part of his life. The intimidation. The miniature wars. He let the old feelings seep into him, accepted the blood lust and thirst for violence. Once, he'd been the predator stalking these streets.

"He's a jack of all trades. Smuggling, fixing fights, selling information. If there's a profit to be made, he'll go for it."

"How good can he be if I don't know about him." He glanced impatiently towards the boarded up windows, itching to relieve some of his anger.

"He avoids the big guys, keeps his stomach to the ground like a snake. I'm not even sure how your brother found him, honestly." She closed the trunk, clutching an odd spear-like object with a short handle. "What even is this thing?"

"I made that," he said distractedly, already striding toward the brick building. At one point, it looked like it had been an apartment complex but those days were long gone. Only a few derelict street lamps were on - perfect. There were some deeds that were never meant to see the light.

"I thought you didn't like to forge?" Maze asked, giving the weapon a few experimental thrusts.

"I dabble occasionally," he said shortly. "Now, are you coming or not?"

The plywood covering the door and windows wasn't particularly sturdy. Many pieces had bowed, allowing him a glimpse inside.

"Shouldn't I go first? You're vulnerable." Maze's spirits had risen dramatically, the short spear held before her.

"I'm only occasionally vulnerable. Let's hope tonight isn't one of those times." And without preamble, he kicked in the door. He was inside before the crash could echo. "Hellllllllo, Mr. Jeremy Slanders? I want a word with you."

He'd entered into a main room, furniture pushed around in a haphazard manner. Even so, there was a clear path amongst the newspapers and other debris littering the grimy floor. It led directly to a thick wooden door.

"This isn't exactly the sort of place I'd expected," he noted, taking in the dismal state of the room. "I'm assuming Mr. Slanders does most of his business off site." Picking up a chair, he flung it against the wall, pieces exploding in a firework of shrapnel.

If kicking down the door hadn't captured someone's attention, surely that would've. He was proven right when not a moment later, the far door was flung open. Two men appeared. Young and armed. A terrible combination, really.

"Who the fuck are you?" one asked, raising his gun.

_Thwack._

Lucifer didn't flinch as the spear flew from behind him, close enough to ruffle his hair. The weapon caught the gunman in the shoulder. He sank to the ground with a wail. The sound lit something in Lucifer, some fire he hadn't stoked in ages.

He loved that sound. The hopelessness. The fear. The _pain_.

It gave him the control.

The gunman's partner jumped, holding up his own weapon in a shaky grip.

"Who the-"

"The fuck am I?" Lucifer finished, stalking towards him. "I'm Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar. I request an audience with your boss."

The second gunman's hand had steadied some at his approach, the barrel of his gun glittering. "You come any closer and I'll put a bullet between your eyes."

"I doubt that," Lucifer said, changing his eyes to red. "Now, when I said request earlier, that implied a choice for you. An oversight on my part, I'm afraid." His hand whipped out, knocking the gun from the man's suddenly lax hand. "You see, people don't usually say no to me."

The gunman remained frozen for a moment, hands raised like he was still holding a weapon. His chest moved with shallow pants. Wheezing. "What the hell are you?"

Lucifer grinned, baring his teeth. "The Devil."

Weaponless, the man stumbled backwards, colliding with a shelf. He looked back and, realizing he was trapped, threw a wild punch.

Lucifer side stepped easily, grabbing the extended arm and twisting. There was a popping noise and then an anguished scream as the man's shoulder dislocated. Rather than release him, Lucifer twisted his arm again, forcing the man to his knees.

No one ever said he had to wait for souls to reach Hell to punish them.

"Where's Jeremy Slanders?" he asked conversationally.

The man continued to howl and Lucifer applied even more pressure. He could feel the strain beneath his hand. All he had to do was pull a bit harder and muscle would start to peel from bone. It was a tantalizing notion. After all, why shouldn't he punish this stain? He was the Devil, how dare this pathetic human point a gun at him.

He tightened his grip. Things were breaking under his hand. Bones _shattering_.

"P-p-please," the man cried, batting at Lucifer weakly with his uninjured arm.

"Please what? I'm not a mind reader." He twisted again. There was a snap. A shift. Something poked out from the man's forearm. The white jagged edge of bone.

The man screamed, body rocking with fear and pain.

"Lucifer," Maze said, her hand landing on his shoulder.

He shrugged her off, focused on his victim. Blood glistened, dripping sluggishly from the puncture wound. He could see the bone marrow, a dark greyish hue. His free hand crept up the shaking arm, prodding at the open fracture. The screaming had become one continuous wail.

"Lucifer," Maze tried again, "we don't have time for this."

"I thought you would be pleased, Mazikeen." A voice was echoing in his head, warning him about not crossing lines. He wished it'd shut up. "Isn't this what you wanted? The Devil to return in all his torturous glory."

He could smell the blood, taste copper in the back of his throat. The last five years bled away, lost to the hungry void of fury sucking ravenously in his gut.

The Devil was invulnerable. Untouchable. _Powerful_.

"He can't even speak! Now he's useless to us." Maze's hand wrapped around his arm, forcefully trying to remove him.

In a flash, he was on his feet, shoving her backwards effortlessly. "So? We have another." He jerked to indicate the other gunman, who was trying to pull Maze's spear out of his shoulder.

The man's eyes were streaming as he looked up wildly. "I'll t-tell you wh-whatever you want!"

"See? This chap understands." Kneeling before him, Lucifer smiled, eyes crinkling. "Tell me, where is Jeremy Slanders?"

"In the back! Go through the d-door and follow the ha-ha-hallway."

At that, Maze immediately went to investigate, easing open the door in question and slipping into the hallway beyond.

Lucifer cocked his head in mock thoughtfulness. "Sounds simple. But I fear you may be leaving out a few crucial details." Grasping the spear, he pulled it from the man's shoulder. There was a spurt of hot blood, the head of the spear covered in small chunks of raw flesh. Oh right, the whole thing was covered in little barbs.

Oops.

He tossed the spear away, droplets of blood arcing through the air. "For example, I'm curious as to how many more of you little cockroaches are crawling around."

_This man was strong_, Lucifer thought with reluctant respect. Despite the agony he was surely in, he hardly even whimpered. Unlike his partner, who was _still_ crying like a child. Honestly, it was only a broken radius, not an amputation!

Hand clasped around the hole in his shoulder, as if that were enough to stem the blood cascading out like a waterfall, the gunman answered, "S-s-six more."

Lucifer rested his wrists on his knees, bouncing slightly in his crouch. He was fairly certain he wasn't being lied to, not that it really mattered. Six men, even armed, was child's play. What a shame. He'd expected, wanted even, things to be a bit more difficult tonight. These two had hardly been any fun at all, taken down in a matter of moments. Where was the challenge?

A tingle on the back of his neck had him jerking around just as a gunshot went off. The nearness was almost painful, ears ringing as the acrid scent of smoke filled his nostrils.

Another shot, this time accompanied by a pressure to his temple, like someone had flicked him hard. Something metallic hit the floor and he looked down, not immediately recognizing the partially flatten little cylinder for what it was.

"No fucking way."

Lucifer looked up, realizing the shooter had been the gunman with the broken arm. The man had retrieved his gun, though his face was ghostly pale, the blood drenching his forearm dark and thick. He stood on quivering legs, smoking weapon pointed towards the floor.

Lucifer looked down at the flatten bit of metal, eyes glowing red with comprehension. "You shot me!" he accused.

The gunman wasn't listening. "Oh fuck. You-you're really…"

Lucifer was tiring of the disrespect. Humans cowered in fear when they knew who he was. They didn't try and shoot him!

Well, like he'd reasoned before, these men were cockroaches. And everyone knew what you did with cockroaches...

Mr. Hole-in-his-shoulder wasn't going anywhere, mainly because he was about to pass out from blood loss. Standing, Lucifer dusted himself off, shrugging off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves. He didn't have any implements on him at the moment - no tweezers or pliers - but improvising was a talent of his.

In two steps he was before the would-be killer. With ease he shoved the man backwards, sending him to the floor. Before he had a chance to right himself, Lucifer was on him, one hand pressed against his sternum to keep him pinned to the floor on his back, a knee slotted between his thighs to keep him in place.

The position was all too familiar, a whiff of half forgotten brimstone tickling his nose. He could hear the crackle of Hellfire, feel the heat of it licking at his skin.

No one had power over the Devil. Not Amenadiel. Not Mazikeen. And not this pathetic excuse for a human!

"You should've just kept crying and pissed yourself. Everything would've been far easier," he murmured to the pinned man.

The man bucked and Lucifer redoubled the pressure he was exerting, mindful of the limits of the human skeleton. No need for a punctured lung. Yet.

"If you were a soul in Hell, I would crack you open and pull out your lungs." He let his Devil face flicker into existence. "My Dad has rules about killing humans though so no Blood Eagle for you."

The body beneath him was rattling with terror, pupils blown and lips quivering around soundless words.

"Regardless," he looked around the floor, searching for a tool, "there's still so much fun to be had."

A crowbar lay by his foot but he discarded the idea of using it. He needed something suitable for precision work, not a blunt object. Unfortunately, most of the debris around him was useless for his intended purpose.

He looked back down at the shaking man. His eyes were almost rolling with manic panic, a sign he couldn't push him much further without inflicting serious psychological damage.

Good.

He could use his fingers, he supposed. Even with manicured nails, it wouldn't be strenuous for him to cut the man's stomach open. But what to do after? A traditional gutting would kill him. He _could_ just play with his organs a bit, squeeze and pinch them. The blood loss could become too great if he went that route.

Frustrated with his limited options, he racked his brain for something. As he thought, he tweaked the broken edge of bone protruding from the man's arm. There was no wailing this time, no whimper, or even a gasp. Something about that was important, a niggling doubt in the back of his mind. This was wrong. He shouldn't be doing this.

He was running out of time.

Biting his lip, he internally cursed the unfairness of it all. Why couldn't he have this? After everything he'd learned tonight, the betrayal and -

The word betrayal branded the inside of his eyelids, turning his vision a blurry red. With a snarl he tore through the pinned man's jeans pockets, searching for a weapon. Surely he didn't _only_ carry a gun. He chuckled to himself as he found a penknife. The blade was small, hardly big enough to cut off a finger, but if he jammed it in his eye…

Leaning over, he readjusted his weight so he had both hands freed. With one, he held the man's head still, the other positioning the blade just so. He would have to be careful to not drive the knife into the brain. A literal eye for an eye.

"N-no," the man rasped, the fight returning to him as he thrashed and bucked against Lucifer's iron strength.

"It's only _fair_," he said scathingly, tracing the knife along the man's brow. "You see, when you inevitably die and go to Hell, I won't be there to torture you."

"Pl-plea-aase."

They always begged in the end. They, who decided to take the risk, who tested fate, always implore for leniency when faced with the consequences of their actions. How cowardly.

Lucifer placed the tip of the knife against a twitching eyelid, deciding where to make his incision. A straight cut through the pupil was the usual choice but maybe he'd make two cuts and cross them like an "X". The whole process would be quick, two flicks of his wrist. Yet, for some reason, he hesitated. The sense of wrongness compounded, eating away at him.

He was still deliberating his canvas when Maze burst back into the room, a hole in her leggings but otherwise uninjured.

"Slanders took off," she informed him shortly, striding to his side. She stopped short when she saw him properly. "What are you doing?"

"What's it look like? I'm punishing." He decided on a simple horizontal cut, leaning over further and squinting to get the angle just right.

"Lucifer," Maze said and he was surprised to note the hint of apprehension in her tone. "We don't have time for this."

"This is but a moment's work." Fuck it, he'd just jam the knife in and see what happened. The blade was too short to reach the frontal lobe anyway. Probably.

"_Stop_." Maze grabbed his hand, attempting to pry the knife loose. "We don't have time to clean up if you make a mess! Someone's probably heard something and called the police by now."

"Since when are you so responsible." He yanked his hand free.

Maze shifted, one of her hands landing on his back in an unnatural display of… affection? What was she doing?

"Lucifer, if you do this, I know you're going to regret it."

"Regret?" He spat the word, realigning his pen knife. "This is what I do or have you forgotten? I torture the guilty. And since when do you protect humans anyway?"

"This isn't about the human, it's about you! You keep telling me you hated Hell, hated what you had to do there."

"And? Suddenly what I want is your main concern?" Maybe he could pop _out_ the eye with the edge of the knife.

"I'm here to protect you," she insisted. "Even from yourself. Remember?"

He bared his teeth, body tensed like a length of wire. First she betrayed him and now she apparently cared? The shifting didn't sit well with him.

"I don't believe you," he said. Still, he made no move to move the knife closer to its target.

Maze jerked back. "Fine, you know what? Kill him. I don't care anymore. But I know you, Lucifer. Don't you ever forget that. You can pretend all you want that," she gestured angrily, "this is you but I know better."

Lucifer's hand was shaking, minute trembles hidden in the dark. He felt it though, felt the wooden handle of the blade rattle against his palm, like Maze herself. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Back.

And.

Forth.

With a cry of equal parts rage and fear, he flung away the knife.

He couldn't do it. Didn't _want_ to do it.

Running a shaking hand through his hair, he looked up, only to find Maze was gone. Where, he didn't know. She was probably chasing Slanders. Though it was just as likely she'd gone off to meet with Amenadiel or-

The tumbling emotions in his gut, having been allowed to fester for a few hours, were all the more potent as they slammed into him again. His rage was washed away into that freezing, sucking void of excruciating torment. He didn't understand it, how she could admit to betraying him and then mere hours be concerned for him. Which was the lie?

He wanted to believe she meant it, that she really did care but… no, it was impossible. People didn't do that to each other. But Maze wasn't 'people' was she? Demons played by their own warped rules.

He released his victim, hardly noticing the man had passed out, and rose to his feet. Robotically, he unrolled his cuffs and retrieved his jacket, studiously avoiding looking at either of the men on the ground. Had he really done that, spilled all this blood?

His foot caught the pen knife as he walked towards the exit. He could feel the weight of it in his hands… would he have seriously carved out that man's eye?

The shaking was no longer contained to only his hands. His entire body vibrated like a wind-up toy. With numb fingers, he placed an anonymous call with the police, saying he'd heard gunfire in the area. He couldn't leave the two men to die.

The street outside was deserted aside for the Phantom. He climbed into the front seat, staring at the steering wheel for a moment before remembering he needed to actually turn on the car. The keys… where were the keys?

Oh, Maze had them.

He caressed the ignition, the car purring to life. For once, the trick left him hollow, the usual spark of egotistical pride sorely lacking. He put the car in drive, rolling forwards until he came to an intersection. Here, he braked.

Where was he going?

Unbidden, the image returned of the terrified man he'd pinned down. Pushing the limit was something he did even with Chloe around but this had been entirely different. Deep down, he'd known he was going too far but it hadn't mattered. All he'd wanted was to feel something other than the void in his chest.

He _wasn't_ a monster.

But he'd very nearly become one and that thought terrified him. Whenever he roughed up humans, he never pushed that far, never considered carving people up like bloody turkeys! It was different in Hell, the souls there were meant to suffer, their stone had been cast. He couldn't treat living souls the same. Even Jimmy Barnes, who'd nearly killed Chloe, had only seen a controlled bit of the Devil.

He punched the steering wheel, the horn blaring. What was happening to him?

He never should've trusted Mazikeen. Never. It had been stupid of him, placing faith in a demon simply because she, what, hadn't immediately tried to overthrow him? What a bloody low bar.

Yes, that had been the problem. He'd let her into his inner fold, made her a confidant. Of course she'd been able to hurt him, he'd given her all the tools necessary. She knew his weaknesses, his fears, his dreams. And she knew how to turn that knowledge against him. Well, he'd learned his lesson. There wouldn't be a repeat performance. All he had to do to avoid another betrayal was be…

Alone.

He rocked his head back, smacking it into the headrest. No, he knew all too well what being alone felt like and, even with all the anguish connections brought, he couldn't do it, couldn't cut himself off and hide in solitude. But he loathed this other feeling, the pain and, even deeper, the thought of why this kept happening to him.

He tried to rationalize it. His siblings, his parents, Mazikeen, they were all self righteous hypocrites. Was it really any surprise they'd all betrayed - abandoned - him?

Even deeper than that, a truth so hidden within himself he scarcely knew it existed, was the answer. Because if the outcome was always the same no matter who he was close to, then perhaps the problem wasn't everyone else.

Maybe it was _him_.

His hands fell to his lap as he stared blankly out of the windshield to the looming empty buildings beyond. Now that the realization had caught him, he couldn't summon the strength to free himself.

He still believed he had been right in asking for free will, nothing would ever be able to change his opinion on that. The tensions with his family had started long before that point, however. His rebellion had only been the last in a shopping list of smaller arguments and fights, culminating in his Fall.

Surely it meant something. Thousands of siblings and not one had taken his side. Not one had dared voiced their dissent over how he was treated. Not one had ever bothered to visit him in Hell unless they'd had no other option…

He pinched his thigh, using the pain to drag himself out of thoughts that were better left unscrutinized. He'd spent millenia in Hell stuck searching for an answer to these questions. It hadn't done him any good then and it certainly wouldn't do any good now.

Yet, the thoughts continued to plague him, a fog that left his heart racing frantically, uncontrollably. His throat was dry, each swallow almost choking him. He reached for his flask, only to find his hand was weak. Making a fist, he was alarmed when the shaking only worsened.

Fantastic, first his mind and now his body was rebelling. He tensed himself, trying to stop the tremors, but they were relentless, his teeth clicking together. The world was beginning to distort before his very eyes, the edges of his sight blurry, the feeble lighting darkening.

Control. He demanded _control_.

In his ear, he heard a whisper, a familiar voice, "_I keep telling you, control. If you can't control yourself, I can't trust you."_

Chloe.

With a shuddering breath, he shook his head hard. The fog released him, clarity returning. His heart was still beating uncomfortably fast but at least he no longer felt like he was in danger of choking.

The memory of Chloe's words awakened another, a moment spent curled together on a cheap mattress. Of hands in his hair and a warm body beneath his ear. Of actions not passed in judgement but in, of all things, _empathy_.

That night, she'd quieted the voices in his head, the vile, warbling tones of his own failures and shortcomings. He'd sworn to himself he would never seek out her affection again.

But a yearning strong enough to soothe the war taking place in his mind enveloped him. He wanted it, had never wanted anything more in his life. That's what Chloe had said, right? He should indulge his wants?

He pressed on the gas, shooting off into the night, now sure of his destination. The drive took almost half an hour but to him it may have been a mere minute. A desperate minute.

The voices were still talking but he refused to give in, refused to feel bad for wanting this. Chloe hadn't judged him the first time and she surely wouldn't now. That was the whole point. She looked at him and all she saw was him.

His father saw a disappointment. His siblings saw a traitor. Mazikeen saw a plaything.

Chloe saw Lucifer Morningstar.

When he turned onto Chloe's street, he found it emptier than usual. The mess of cars typically left on the curb were missing. It was a small mercy for Lucifer, who hadn't wanted to leave his car within sight of the beach house.

He parked a few houses down, his bruised pride making itself known. His seat vibrated as the car engine died. The street lights here were few and far between, the moon casting voids of shadows which tangled with one another in the darkness. Chloe's house was lit, light pouring out from between opened curtains.

Shutting the car door, he strided across the street. The promise of warmth was a beacon, drawing him in. He could feel his anger and frustration drain away, along with it the pain from Maze's actions, a constant stab in his side. The voices were already quieting, drowned out by the promise of affection.

Mounting the front steps, he paused at the door, looking through the curtains. Light washed over him, illuminating his wrinkled shirt, his messy hair.

It took only a moment to locate Chloe, just the sight of her making it easier to breathe. She was sitting at the dining room table with Trixie and a third figure he recognized as Penelope Decker. The three of them were in the midst of what looked like a fierce game of Monopoly. Yet the trio was laughing, clearly having fun. Even as he watched, Trixie leaned over to say something and the others dissolved into another round of giggles, faces alight and free.

He couldn't do it.

Stepping back from the window, and into the shadows, the building weight of the last several hours hit again, staggering him. He didn't belong with them, not when they looked so happy. Chloe hadn't smiled like that all day, how could he burden her now?

Slinking back to his car, he again tapped the ignition and with a surge of unexplained fury, pressed down hard on the accelerator. The car jumped with a screech but he didn't let up, roaring through the residential area. His anger was short lived, however, and he settled into a cruising speed the remainder of the way home.

Yet agitation clutched him, fierce as a lion's jaw. He hadn't realized just how desperate he was for Chloe, for her smile and gentle manner. Stripped of that option, he was damn near hopeless.

Returning to Lux, he found the typical line of people waiting impatiently to get in. He brushed past them without his usual greetings, that throbbing mess still lodged in his gut. He wanted to forget. Nay, he _needed_ to.

He was hardly to the bar when he was accosted by a woman in a dress which covered about as much as a shirt. As she pressed against him, he wrapped an arm around her, anchoring himself. He dragged her along to the bar, somehow collecting two gentlemen on the way over. The bartender had a drink waiting for him and he drained the tumbler, not tasting the liquid.

Another drink. More people. A kiss. Who had initiated? Did even matter? Being used felt _nice_.

Bodies rubbing against his. More lips. More drinks. A cigarette. Then a tongue. More bodies. Pressing in. Encompassing.

A stumble to the elevator. Crushed by a crowd. Then the penthouse. More liquor. Spilled. Absorbed. Laughter. Caresses.

White powder. A rolled scrap of paper. Clothes shed. And even more alcohol.

Naked flesh. The bed. Soft lips. Rough stubble.

Overwhelming. Over-sensitized. Yet numb. Lifeless.

He couldn't feel a damn thing.

Salty skin. Roving hands. Bed shaking. Smoke and coke.

Why couldn't he feel anything?

Shuddering breaths. Prodding tongues. Exclamations of ecstasy.

Was this why humans slit their wrists?

Moans. Groans. Slicked bodies. A slow quiet.

And in the silence, the Devil cried.


End file.
